Deceitful Love
by renners
Summary: How Clint and Natasha manage to get by. Sequel to I Kill Men Like You.
1. Coming Home

_Hi all! I'm back with my new story, Deceitful Love, the sequel to my other story, I Kill Men Like You. You don't necessarily have to read it to understand whats going on, but I do suggest so because no body likes having those blank spots of a story they don't understand. So check it out, leave a review if you liked it!_

_Enjoy!_

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_**Natasha's POV**_

There are a few things that a high-class assassin does _not _expect to come home to after a three month long mission on the other side of the world.

First, you never really get used to having a home where you can stumble into and dump all your belongings on the floor and walk around in your underwear. However, assassins are trained to be prepared, and there's always a gun hanging by my side in my hand.

Aside from that, you never really expect to find a goddamned _dog _waiting for you inside. The black and white Border collie had knots all in his hair and was sitting expectantly in front of me, tail wagging and tongue hanging out of its mouth in the dopiest of ways. The only thing that I could muster in my mind; Clint was crazy.

I let out a humourless laugh and walked around the mutt, raising an eyebrow as it followed in my stead and looked up at me like I was his master.

"Oh no, you go give those puppy eyes to Clint. I'm not feeding you." I muttered, feeling slightly stupid for talking to an animal in the first place, but it was late and I was tired and there was a fucking _dog _in my apartment.

Oh, another thing you don't expect is to round the corner to the small shitty kitchen to grab a bottle of water, only to see the fridge door was wide open and the ass belonging to a slim, tall woman was poking out of the doorway.

Yeah, that gun did come in handy sometimes.

I raised it in my steady hand and waited for the woman behind the door to stand up. She had a bottle of _my _sparkling water tucked under her arm and had exceptionally messy bed hair, her lacy underwear and bra the only thing covering her slim body.

She let the long blonde locks fall out of her face before turning to close the fridge, and her brown eyes widened in shock as I stood there with an extremely irritated look on my face, gun pointed to the bitch who was drinking _my _water and a dog wagging it's tail innocently beside me.

"Morse." I greeted flatly, narrowing my eyes as she let the fridge door swing shut with a thump and regained her composure, a blush creeping up her neck at her near-nudity.

"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry, Natasha, I-"

"Just had mad sex with my partner?" I finished, cocking my head to the side and dropping my gun to the table, walking past her and retrieving my own bottle of water from the fridge and downing half the contents. The dog followed happily.

She puffed her cheeks out and ran a hand through her messy hair, fingers getting caught in the knots and tangles throughout the locks. "He didn't tell me you were coming home," she sighed, changing the obvious subject. I scoffed.

"Of course not, why would he?" I said sarcastically, and my irritation rose as she thought I was actually being serious.

Head bobbing up and down vigorously as she nodded her agreement, a very shirtless and bed-headed Clint rounded the corner, paused mid step, let his eyes flicker from Bimbo-Bobbi to me and back again, raised his hands in innocence, turned back around and dashed away. The dog followed enthusiastically.

Clint Barton was a dead man.

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**_Clint's POV_**

_T__wo months earlier._

There had only been a few times that Phil Coulson had officially organized a personal meeting in his office with me in all my years at S.H.I.E.L.D.

The first was when I just joined as the hurt and mentally pained high-skilled Carnie boy. Hardly an adult and a ledger soaked red to the core. I had just been through a meeting with Fury, talking about protocol and training and all the important bullshit, and for me to watch my back because I was walking on fine lines in this place.

"Are you comfortable here?" He had asked me when I sat down in the hard chair in front of his desk. I'd looked into his calm eyes, they were always calm, and found curiosity and sentiment buried deep in his irises.

"I suppose." I had replied, confused as to why he had organized this meeting in the first place.

"But are you happy?"

At those words, I had looked away from him and cast my gaze to my hands, which were folded lazily in my lap. My fingernails were dirty and my hands were calloused, a memoir for my choice of weapon and job.

"I'll never truly be happy, sir. This is just a job that saved my life, nothing more, nothing less. Happiness will come when it pleases, but for me, I don't think it ever will."

Coulson didn't say anything after that. No, he looked pained behind his calm eyes; as if he had granted me every wish except the one I needed most but could never come true. Eventually he pulled out a file from the draw in his desk and slid it forward to me. My name was printed neatly with a big _'CLASSIFIED' _stamped underneath.

"That's your file. As in, it has all your known records and origin within it. If you have a problem with anything written in there, you need to let me know by the end of the week so we can edit it. After that, it stays as it is until it needs updating."

I'd nodded and taken the file, standing up. "Thank you, sir."

"Please, call me Coulson." He'd smiled. There was nothing in the file I wanted to change.

The rest had all been about missions that had gone bad, and the things that would scar me for life. He'd insisted on me visiting the doctors more then once but I'd refused because who could be so weak? I could live with my nightmares. I'd done it my whole life.

So today was different. There had been no recent missions that had gone down hill. Sure, Natasha had been gone for a month, what, does he think I'm depressed? I'd completed the short solo missions within a day and came home safe and sound as usual, so what was going on?

I knocked on the door, reading the familiar _'Agent Phil Coulson' _plastered on the grey wood. There was shuffling behind the frame and the door swung open. He stood there in his usual neat attire, suit well pressed and tie always straight. How many suits did this man own?

He greeted me with a warm smile and let me in, taking back his seat behind the desk and relaxing into the cushions as I set myself on the hard and uncomfortable chair on the other side.

"So, what's up?" I said casually, grabbing the plain black paperweight and playing with it in my hands. He sighed and sprawled his hands on the arms of his spindly chair, rolling his shoulders as if it was _him _sitting in the hard chair.

"I need to talk to you about Natasha."

Well, Phil Coulson certainly didn't beat around the bush.

"What about her?" I said, raising an eyebrow and continuing my play with the paperweight.

"Your compromised, Barton."

I rolled my eyes and placed the paperweight down on his desk with a _thump, _bringing my hands to my face to massage my temples and chuckled without humour.

"Not you too, Phil?" I said in dismay, glancing up at the man in front of me. His face was all business.

"I am your handler, Clint. I've been your handler since the first time I called you into this office. You need to realise that _I can read you. _I'll admit it, you and Romanoff have kept it cool for the past three years, and _yes _I knew there were always feelings brewing for each other deep below, but ever since the Council have laid off your back, those feelings are spilling over the edge."

"I haven't seen her for a month, Coulson." I defended, frowning as he shook his head and leant forward in his seat.

"_Exactly," _he said in a hushed voice, as if afraid someone else might be listening into the conversation from the walls of his enclosed office. "The two of you kept up a good act, even when the Council backed off, but ever since she left you've been sulking around like a lone puppy. Sure you do your missions quick and successfully, but as soon as you're left with nothing to do, your walking around with this aura of loneliness and longing that basically pulses off of your skin."

"Maybe I just miss my partner?"

Coulson nodded his head from side to side and gestured his hand in agreement. "That, _or _the fact that I had to erase the video footage of the two of you engaging in some serious intimacy whilst sparring. You _do _know that the two of you could be suspended for behaving that way on S.H.I.E.L.D grounds? It's not accepted."

"Are you kidding me?" I growled, throwing my arms out to my sides in sudden anger, and despite all my denials, I couldn't help the panic that was rising in my chest. "We were fooling around, Coulson!"

"Cut the crap, Barton. I just have some serious advice that I need you to follow if you want to keep your head in the game."

I didn't reply, just simply lowered my arms and sunk into the chair a little more, gripping the edges tightly as I tried to remain impassive. When he noticed my silence, he continued.

"I need you to move on. Okay? I know it will be hard, and I _know _how much you care for her, but you aren't good for each other. I've seen one too many partnerships destroyed because they gave into each other's feelings, and trust me, you don't just get fired in this line of work with the amount of Intel you have on the place. You wont be seeing her for another couple of months, so take that time to push your feelings aside, meet knew people, hell, go to a strip club! Just take your mind off of her and don't let compromise become your only option."

He must have seen the pain in my eyes despite how hard I was trying to hide it, because he stood up and stepped around the desk, stopping beside me to place his hand on my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Clint. Trust me, I want more then anything for the two of you to be happy. You're like the children I never had! But not in this line of work… not now, anyway."

Something about the way he let those words leave his lips, almost reluctantly, sparked interest within me and although I knew he was speaking the truth and although I knew he was right, I filed them away in my mind for later because everything this man says or does has a reason behind it.

So instead of questioning it, I stood from my seat and shrugged his hand off my shoulder, not bothering to say goodbye as I walked out of his office, his sad gaze basically burning holes into my back as I silently closed the door and shoved my fisted hands into my pockets and made a beeline for the car park.

.

It had been hours that I had been sitting in my car, just staring out the window at the park around me and watching as the sky turned from light blue, to amber with a golden glow, to the near black starless night. The single light post I was parked under flickered occasionally and I didn't pay any attention to the music that was playing dully in the background of my mind.

Despite the fiery rage burning inside of me at Phil, at Natasha, at the Council and anyone else that got in the way of our partnership (yes, including Natasha and myself) I knew that he was right, and I guess I had seen it coming because people with ledgers like ours don't _deserve _to be happy.

The hints had only been subtle, but they had definitely been there. When she became a member of S.H.I.E.L.D, officially, we didn't really have time for the constant flirting like we used to because we were so set and focused on _making this work. _The Council had been hot on our trails for almost three years, and we more then once were put on probation when a mission went bad because they thought Natasha had done it on purpose to try and get me killed. Whatever Fury said or done must've had a great effect on them because seven months ago they'd finally given up and we were finally granted the 'easy assassin life' that we deserved from the very beginning.

But that easier life stopped short because obviously, without the constant threat for our jobs and lives, we had let too much emotion slip through and now the one man I trusted the most was telling me to _back down._

But how can you back down from passion?

We'd patched each other up emotionally and physically more times than I can count and despite the lines we had drawn between each other, even we couldn't stand behind them. She was a dangerous woman and she was full of sorrow and nightmares, but she also held compassion and grasped each day as they came because we need to wipe our ledgers some way, right?

I guess it was a privilege to be the only one who could get a read on the most deadly woman in the world, and even better to share an untouchable bond with her, too, but now that had to stop.

Why did it hurt so much to come to that conclusion?

I sighed in frustration and pushed the door open, the cool night air hitting my face as I wondered about the secluded part of Central Park that all the thugs came to do their gambling. Nice place to ponder my thoughts on, hey?

Speaking of thugs, I was well aware of the gang of seven/eight burley men stumbling drunkenly through the trees, shouting and cursing at something I couldn't see.

"Hey!"

As if this night couldn't get any worse, I now how to kick some drunken ass. I sighed and turned around, watching as the men stumbled from the bushes, one dragging a black and white dog on a worn out leash.

"Got any weed? Sticks?" another asked as they came closer, stinking of alcohol and cigarettes.

"Nah, sorry, mate." I chuckled.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?" The man dragging the dog stepped forward, so close that I could smell his rotting breath wafting into my personal space.

I rolled my eyes and easily caught the sluggish punch he threw my way, twisting his arms and sidestepping behind him so I could pin it painfully to his back. He let out a howl of pain and stumbled to his knees, and I roughly shoved him to the ground with my boot before turning to take care of the rest of the men as they leapt for me.

I didn't kill any of them, couldn't be bothered with the mess and hiding the bodies and the amount of trouble I'd get in with S.H.I.E.L.D. so instead I left them in a whimpering pile on the park floor and wiped away the blood that was spilling from a wound on my forehead from when one of them smashed a bottle over my head. There were definitely shards of glass buried deep in there.

I wiped my hands on my jacket and laughed to myself when I imagined their wives faces when they told them what happened, but was bought out of my thoughts when a weak whimper came from somewhere behind me, that was positively not human.

I turned around and saw the black and white dog trot to a stop in front of me and sit down, bowing it's head and looking up at me with his big, sad brown eyes that glinted in the soft moonlight. I frowned and noticed the collar that was wrapped too tightly around his neck, digging into his fur and peeling away at his skin.

Considering how angry Natasha would be that I bought a dog home and where the dog would end up if I didn't, I chose the most selfish of the two and bent down to untie the collar from his throat. He coward away but made no move to attack, and when the old collar was finally removed, I firmly patted his head to show I meant no harm.

He followed me enthusiastically back into my car.

When I got back to the shitty little apartment that was five minutes away from the park, I ordered two boxes of pizza and made a mental note to buy some dog food for my newfound friend as I patched up the wound on my head.

He was scared at first, to be welcomed into unknown property, but when I scraped two slices of pizza onto a plate and placed it on the floor, he dug into the meal and licked up every last crumb like it was the last thing he'd do, before coming to stand by me as I sat on the lounge.

"So, a Border collie, huh?" I asked, and he cocked his head to the side as if he understood every word I said.

"What should I call you?"

Instead of making another animalistic gesture, he trotted away from me and wandered down the hall, and I quickly followed in pursuit because Natasha would _not _be happy if she came home to her possessions covered in dog piss.

That wouldn't be the case, however, because the dog was actually in my room and was sniffing about the few objects on the floor, and just as I thought he was about to cock his leg on my brand new acoustic guitar that I'd bought last week, he instead sniffed behind it and came back to me with a long object in his mouth.

He sat down; one ear flopped to the side and tail thumping on the floor with excitement.

"Sorry, boy, I'm not playing fetch with you with one of my arrows."

The dog's head perked at my last word, and a fantastic idea popped into my mind.

"I shall call you Arrow!"

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_Love it? Hate it? Tell me what you think in a review! _


	2. Encounters

_THIS IS NOT A HAWKINGBIRD FIC. THIS IS A MORE SLEEP-WITH-BOBBI-BUT-WANT-NATASHA-TYPE-THING AND THERE IS NO CHEMESTRY BETWEEN CLINT AND BOBBI AT ALL SO DO NOT PANIC AND JUST READ AND LOVE AND BE HAPPY 3_

_._

The first time he slept with Bobbi Morse, he could hardly remember.

It was almost as if she'd followed him to the small bar a few miles north of base that was owned by retired S.H.I.E.L.D agents. He'd been sitting there, drinking away his sorrows with a nagging voice in the back of his head telling him to go home to feed the dog. But he didn't move.

He was too strung down by the way he missed Natasha but knew he shouldn't.

Bobbi had come up to him, drunk as drunk can be, and he was also light headed with intoxication, and he'd say he regretted placing his hand on her upper thigh and claim it was an accident, but in his state of mind, he didn't really care.

He fucked her against his bathroom wall that night and she'd left in a giggling state with a promise to see him soon. He fell asleep and woke up with a killer hang over and five texts from Bobbi asking if he had a good night and what not.

Phil noticed a change as soon as he walked through the doors, but didn't comment.

The second time, to Clint's regret, was in the S.H.I.E.L.D change rooms.

She rocked up at his house more and more often within the weeks, and still, Coulson could notice a change, and it wasn't a good one.

Clint was becoming sloppy with his work, almost didn't care what paper work he had to hand in and what missions needed his skill set.

Still, Phil didn't say anything.

Clint heard that Natasha had successfully pinned the mission and would be returning within a few days. He was happier then he had been in three months, and it was like a buzz going around base as he strode through the halls with a goofy grin plastered on his face. He didn't fuck Bobbi that night. He felt good about it, too.

Then she rocked up at his apartment the next night and basically pinned him to the bed, and despite what Phil said, the whole time he wished it was a red head instead.

"I don't know what you see in her. She's a young ex-Russian defect who nearly cost you your job and your life."

Clint had gotten angry when Bobbi said that, and excused himself from the bed to use the bathroom because he didn't want to look at her face for another second. He looked at himself in the mirror for quite some time, knowing only too well that he had fucked things up big time and that Bobbi _had to go. _

He thought he could break it off with her, and that Natasha would never find out, but down the hall and around the corner, he could hear more then one voice and went to investigate. All thoughts of Natasha-never-finding-out vanished when he saw her glaring at the rustled blonde drinking _her _water and he knew he was in for it.

Arrow wasn't helping much, either.

He was too lost in his thoughts that he couldn't face her, and with an innocent gesture, he quickly fled to the room and pretended to be asleep when Bobbi got back.

Natasha slept with the dog that night.

The next morning didn't go well, either. Natasha saw the long, S.H.I.E.L.D issued shirt that was in her room before she'd left that Bobbi was wearing, and she didn't say anything at all. That was bad. That meant she was saving her anger for him.

Because that shirt was the favorite one she stole from Clint and wore after he got back from work because it smelt so much like _him, _and now it was covered in… _Bobbi._

She'd pinned him to the wall that night with a shiny new dagger pressed to his throat, eyes wild and nostrils flaring and despite the situation they were in, she never looked more beautiful.

.

_**Clint's POV**_

It had been a week since Natasha had gotten home, and her and Arrow seemed to have formed quite a bond. She took him with her when she went for jogs and even let him snuggle up to her in their spare time. But she hardly spoke to me.

Sure, I could deal with pushing feelings aside for the better, but having her not talk to me hurt a lot.

I would blame Phil, but he was only trying to help.

Our partnership was slowly beginning to crack and given everything we'd been through in the past three years, I was not willing to let it crumble apart.

It was late at night and we had a mission to prepare for in four days, and partners do _not _work well together with this amount of tension between the two.

I knew she wasn't sleeping from the orange glow seeping through the cracks of her door, and I stood there for about seven minutes, hand raised to knock, but I was frozen in place. What was I going to tell her?

"You can come in, you know."

Of course she knew I was standing there, how could she not? I sighed and shook my head, opening the door and peaking my head around the corner. She was sitting in nothing but a singlet and some panties, and I felt my heart clench because she wasn't wearing one of my oversized shirts like she normally does.

I smiled and sat at the end of her bed where her small feet lay, and I picked them up and placed them on my lap to give me more room.

"What's up?" she asked, placing her book on her bedside table and cocking her head to the side. Arrow trotted into the room and jumped up beside her, nuzzling his head to her side and plopping down with a big dog sigh.

One strange family.

"Not a lot." I shrugged, and she looked over at her alarm clock then back to me, stroking Arrows stomach absentmindedly.

"It's late," she stated. "Where's Bobbi?"

There was no missing the spite in her voice as she said her name.

"I don't know." I chuckled, looking down at her feet as she crossed one over the other in my lap. "I don't really care, either."

She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"She can get irritating after a while."

"She's your girlfriend, you should want to spend every second of the day with her." She mumbled, dragging her fingers through Arrows long coat and untangling all the kinks and knots.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Oh, so you are friends-with-benefits?"

"I… it's hard to explain."

"Enlighten me."

I shook my head and began tickling her ankles, and she twitched ever so slightly under my light traces as I made my way up her strong and powerful calf, and down again.

"You know, three years ago you told me that there were decent men out there. You even convinced me that you were one yourself. Now I'm not too sure."

I felt my heart clench and my light traces halted for a second as her words broke a part in me, and I looked up in her eyes and saw the same, cold look she gave me when we had that conversation three years ago. The fact that she still remembered those words and still believed in them is what hurt the most, because I've broken the way she saw me as her partner.

"Natasha…"

"It's okay, though. I can't control you. Your free to do as you please." She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning her head back against the pillows.

If only she knew.

.

_**Natasha's POV**_

Arrow was wagging his tail and sitting by the front door expectantly, tongue hanging out and ear flopped to the side as he watched me tie the laces to my runners and pull my hair into a ponytail, loose curls still falling about my face as they fell out of the band.

It was a cool morning, but I didn't change out of my gym shorts or singlet because I knew that with all the running that I was going to do, I would be a walking heater by the time I got home.

I had to run off all my thoughts.

I placed headphones in my ears and let Clint's music blast me away as I clipped on Arrows leash and we made our way down the stares. As soon as we were out of the apartment and across the street to Central Park, he was doing his much needed business as I stood away and did some quick stretches in the early morning light.

There were only a few other pedestrians or runners, most of the New York citizens getting as much sleep as possible before a hard day in the office. They didn't even know what hard meant.

I had been running for about an hour when my senses kicked in and I realized I was being followed. I remained neutral, breathing heavily with a slight sheen of sweat on my body, and the dog keeping up the pace beside me. The path twined in and around the dense trees and by the time I finally reached the drink fountain, I was as hot as ever.

I let Arrow off the leash to drink by the little stream and wander about as I sat on the park bench and pulled out Clint's iPod, pretending to look at the long list of music as I actually looked in the reflection of the screen and saw the dark figure standing in the fringe of the trees. Kicking ass is _not _something I want to do on my day to prepare for a mission. Stupid thugs.

I stood up and whistled, and Arrow stopped chasing the pigeons and trotted over to me, sitting by my feet as I re-clasped the leash back on and turned to leave the way I'd come. I could see the dark figure in my peripheral vision, and my body was tense as I waited for him to attack.

That moment never came.

Instead, my head whipped around when a soft "Hey!" came his way and a tall man with dark hair and blue eyes came wandering out, map in his gloved hands and a very lost look on his face. I walked up to him as he scratched his head awkwardly.

"Hi there, sorry to disturb you, but could you, uh, tell me where I am?" he chuckled, handing me the map that was slightly scrunched up from use.

"Well, we're here," I said, pointing to our location on the map. He smiled, showing off a row of white, perfectly straight teeth.

"Could you tell me how to get to the bank? I have some money I need to exchanged, and as you can see, I have lost my way."

"The banks up here, I'm not sure if it'll be open, though. Its really early." Too early for a normal tourist to be wandering about, I thought to myself.

As he chuckled and grabbed back the map, I took the opportunity to examine him more closely. He wore a black coat and black gloves, his body completely covered in fabric, right down to the jeans and boots. I knew it was cold, but not cold enough to be wearing _that _many layers.

Enough layers to hold plenty of weapons.

"Well, thank you for your help…?"

"Natasha." I held out a hand, forcing myself to smile despite my suspicion.

He seemed hesitant to shake my hand at first, and stared at my palm as if it would burn him. But eventually he took my hand in his own, and given the fact that he was wearing thick gloves, I could still feel the cold, hard hand that gripped mine lightly.

"Natasha…" he mused, looking me right in the eyes as if searching for a lie or confession.

"That's a nice name."

.

"_Do you see the way the stars shine out here?"_

"_Yes. It's lovely."_

"_It's such pure beauty. You don't see the stars like this in the city. The lights and beams are too bright, and all you see is dark polluted sky in the night. We are lucky. We can see them sparkle with all their glory."_

_He turned over, but his face was dark, I couldn't make out the features in the blackness of the night, and despite the moon that shone down on us, he remained unseen._

"_They remind me of your eyes."_

_I found my heart skip a beat. Was it of fear for being caught by the guards? Or was it from the compliment that I had never heard before?_

_The snow was melting beneath our bodies, but we didn't move, and soon the coat that he had lent me was damp and I knew I would be sleeping in a wet nightdress tonight if I didn't get up. _

_But I didn't move. _

"_Do you ever wonder what it's like in New York?" I asked suddenly, staring at the twinkling stars above us that spread far and wide to places I know nothing about. _

"_Sometimes." He whispered, shifting closer to me, his warm breath tickling my neck as he turned to face me. "But Russia is our home. We serve Russia and are loyal to Russia. New York has no space in my heart. Only wonder in my mind."_

"_Indeed." I lied. _

_I tore my eyes away from the sky and turned to look at him again. His face was still dark, still covered in a thick, annoying black fog that blocked me from seeing the man who rests beside me. _

_Suddenly the fog seemed to thin, and slowly his features became barely visible. I watched, as his thin, pink lips appeared, then his pointed nose, then his eyes. They were a dull blue and stared at me with such intensity that I had to stop my young face from blushing. _

"_You really are the most beautiful out of them all." He whispered, bringing his hand up to caress my soft white skin. This time, I couldn't help the blush that crept up my neck, and I quickly looked away and back up at the stars in the sky. _

"_We should hurry back. If the other girls find out we're here, they'll tell Ivan for sure."_

"_Do not worry," he whispered, gently turning my face back to his again. He had a small smile plastered on his face. "No body will catch us. I wont let anybody hurt you."_

_He pushed himself up suddenly, leaning over me and dragging his body on top of mine. I was frozen in place as he held his weight with his arms on either side of my head, and his nose brushed my cheek as his lips hovered above my own. I let out a shaky breath and turned my head to the side, and admired the way the night sky reflected off his shiny biotic arm. _

"_Have you ever made love?" he whispered, lips brushing against my ear and I watched in the reflection of his arm as he dipped his head lower to my neck and started planting soft kisses upon my flesh. I took in a sharp intake of breath as is cool lips parted and caressed the hollow of my neck, a warm feeling pooling in my stomach. _

"_Not yet. Ivan say's we are not ready." I gasped when he lowered himself onto his elbows and gently grasped my wrists, twining them around his neck and not letting go until he was sure I wouldn't drop them. _

"_Good." He smiled against my skin, and slowly dragged his fingers across my collar bones, over my breasts and down my ribs, lower, lower, until he reached the hem of my night gown and snaked his hand up, brushing against my thigh, then my hip, so light that it almost tickled, and out of all the tortures the Red Room have cast upon me, this one was the most foreign of them all. _

_All the while he kept most of his weight supported by his strong biotic arm, and he slowly bought his face back up to mine, his features still barely visible, and soon I found his mouth upon my own, his soft, cold lips moving against mine and begging for me to respond in some way. _

_I did. _

_I let my eyes slide shut and bought my hand down to his face. It was soft, even with the short stubble that had grown, and I let my other hand move from around his neck and down to his chest, covered in a thick woolen jumper that I gripped tightly when the hand that was under my gown started to pluck at the waistline of my panties, and when I opened my eyes as his fingers dipped lower, I was no longer staring into the foggy face of an unknown man, I was instead staring into soft, stormy eyes that burnt with lust, and Clint pulled away from my lips with a smile, planting one last kiss upon my forehead._

"_Tasha…" he breathed, and I suddenly felt dizzy._

_._

I woke up with a start, covered in a damp sweat despite the coolness of the night, and I had to feel around for the lamp and let the light shine in the room around me. It was still the shitty old study. No Red Room. No Ivan. I was home. This was _home. _

I sighed and rubbed my eyes, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed and ignoring Arrow when he let out an irritated huff at being woken.

It was still late in the night and a couple of hours until dawn, but I knew I wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, so I got up and padded my way down the hall and to the kitchen.

To my surprise, the light was already on and a very shirtless Clint was busy making two cups of coffee on the bench.

"Is Bobbi here?" I asked, voice scratchy from lack of use.

"No." he grunted, looking up at me with a tired face as he stirred the water into the milk.

"Why the two cups of coffee?" I said, nodding to the bench as I walked around and sat at the table. He carried the two mugs over and handed me my own, and I held it close to my chest as I blew the steam out of my face.

"You were shouting in your sleep."

My head snapped up and I narrowed my eyes at him as he took a big sip from the cup and screwed his face in pain as the coffee burnt his tongue.

"What was I saying?" I whispered, frightened of what he might have heard from the disturbing dream that had taken over my mind in the night.

He shrugged. "A lot of 'no's' and a lot of 'stop's'" he said, avoiding my eyes as he watched Arrow trudge down the hall and take a drink from his bowl.

"What else?" I asked.

He sighed and placed down his mug, resting his chin in his hand as he watched my careful face with caution. "You were begging me to take him away from you."

"Who?"

"You weren't very clear. As if you didn't even know who it was yourself. All I heard was 'Winter', but it didn't make any sense to me. I figured you'd wake up eventually, so I beat you to the kettle." He smiled.

"You did a good job," I said, sipping my coffee. He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." I said instantly, but when I saw the way that his face fell, I sighed. "I mean, yes."

"You don't have to."

"It was when I was a young girl. Fourteen at the most. And I was with… someone. You remember that strange man with the silver arm I told you about?" he nodded and leant forward slightly. "It was him. I couldn't see his face though… it was murky. Like fog. He was…"

"Trying to rape you?"

I shook my head. "No. Because I wasn't stopping him. I was letting him touch me, letting him talk to me the way he did. But before…"

"Before what?" he whispered.

"I… I forgot." I quickly lied. He wasn't fooled, but he didn't press the situation any further, and I was thankful that he didn't beg me into telling him, because I couldn't. He belongs to Bobbi now.

"I'm not sure if it was a dream, or…"

"A memory?"

I nodded and took a sip of my coffee, closing my eyes as the hot liquid poured down my throat.

"Yeah," he sighed, "that's the scary part about dreams. Because when you know that you can't remember things about your life, your never sure if it is a memory or not."

.

_So, who knows which character will be making an appearance more often? ;) _

_And guess which mission they are headed for? Starts with a B!_

_Leave a review, tell me what you think!_


	3. Alterations

_**Phil's POV **_

"We need to make some alterations to the mission."

I looked up from my tablet and raised an eyebrow as Fury took a seat at the opposite side of my desk. Fury never came into my office. I always went to Fury's office. Why was he here? Why was he in my office?

"What's happened, Sir?" I said, placing down the tablet and leaning forward on my elbows.

"Intel came in today. Our target was caught buying baby clothes, bottles, and dozens of them! It's like he was supplying for a nursery. Agent Samroff got footage of his base, have a look," he leant forward and handed me a small file, and I pulled out the three photographs inside of it. "We're dealing with something far more dangerous then we thought."

The first photograph was our target. A tall, older man with graying black hair and a toothbrush moustache that looked like it was trimmed and combed everyday. He was walking with four shopping bags full to the brim of baby supplies.

The second was his mansion. It was in the richer area of Brazil, and was surrounded by tropical trees and blue ocean skies. It looked like the usual paradise that any normal civilian would dream for.

The third was the one that Fury must be so worried about. Somehow, the oh-so strategic Agent Samroff managed to get a picture of the third story, and in there was something that had complicated this mission ten-fold.

Infants, no older then five months were all strapped helplessly to cots that filled the massive room to the brim. Boys and girls of all shapes, sizes and colours lay on their backs with their innocent gazes on the animatedly painted roof. Some were crying. Some were asleep, hell, they could be dead for all we knew.

"Fuck," not usually one to drop the F-bomb on base, I was well and truly convinced that my two agents were in for something that would scar their careers.

"The Council contacted me two hours ago. They are demanding that Romanoff and Barton do this mission."

"What's so bad about that? They were originally assigned to it in the first place." I frowned, placing the photographs on the desk and folding my hands in my lap.

"Three years ago, Romanoff made a private request that I granted her for her psyche and welfare. It was after she sent in her report about the Red Room. Take a look, there's a printed copy in that file, too."

My frown deepened and I dug into the file, coming to contact with a thin, folded sheet. I glanced at Fury before unfolding it and reading the small paragraph printed in neat, small script.

'_Due to my recently assigned mission upon the demand of the World Security Council, I have come forward to make a request with the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D concerning my interaction with children and infants during a mission. For my own selfish need, I would hope that you could grant me the privilege of never being sent on a mission that concerns a child/infants health, safety and welfare. If not, we could negotiate to some sort of agreement."_

Natasha's neat, curled signature was scrawled next to the small text, and I placed down the sheet and rubbed my temples in exasperation.

"Something tells me that the Council got a hold of this request, and are now forcing Natasha and Clint to uphold this mission, otherwise threatening them with termination?"

"Correct," Fury said, standing up and collecting the photographs and sheet of paper, sliding them back into the folder and tucking it under his arm.

"And what do you want me to do about it, Sir?" I sighed, already knowing the answer because all the heavy shit is always left for me.

"I'm leaving it up to you to inform them of what is going on."

Fury turned and walked out of the room with his black coats flapping menacingly behind him, and I slammed my fist onto the table, pulling out my Captain America cards from my draw and looking through them to calm my anger before picking up my tablet and beginning my email.

"Why do I always have to be the one to tell the kids there's no such thing as Santa…?"

.

_**Clint's POV **_

"_CLINT!"_

Bobbi nearly jumped out of bed when a very under-dressed Natasha came storming into my bedroom, laptop in tow and an extremely angry expression on her face. She slammed the door open and shot Bobbi a deadly look when she started to whine (she shut up instantly) before glaring at me and I suddenly tried to remember every bad thing I'd done whilst being partnered with this fuming woman.

"What's up?" I sat up, letting the sheets fall down from my bare chest as she stormed around the bed and sat by my feet, slamming the laptop onto my lap and glaring at Bobbi as she tried to fix her hair.

I scanned over the email on the laptop that Coulson had sent thirty minutes ago, and my curiosity rose as to why Natasha was so damn _angry _at the alterations of a mission.

"I can't believe this," she huffed, slamming the laptop shut when I turned it away from me and raised a confused eyebrow at her rigid form. Something was up.

"What?" I asked, and paid no attention as Bobbi slipped out of the bed and left the room, leaving a big trail or sass along the way and I knew I had to deal with it later.

"Fury can't do this," she whispered, shifting so she was sitting beside me and tucking her bare legs under the blanket. "We made an agreement."

"What agreement, Tasha?" I asked, shifting so I was closer to her bowed head that she turned away from me.

"When we were sent to take down the Red Room, a couple of weeks later I started having these dreams about babies being tested and tortured on… and I asked Fury if he could avoid sending me on missions that involve a child because I just can't deal with it, Clint. And now we have to do this. Now he is forcing me to go on a mission that is involving _dozens _of babies and I just… I can't…!"

"Tasha," I breathed, placing a hand on her back that was exposed from her low cut singlet and rubbing the smooth skin with my calloused roughened palm. "Whatever Fury is doing, there has to be a reason behind it. He wouldn't send you on a mission with the risk of you being compromised unless he truly believed that you could do it."

She turned to face me, her red curls spilling over her shoulder. She was tense under my palm, and her jaw was locked, as if trying to hold back a scream.

"What if we can't do it, Clint?"

"We can. We have to."

She closed her eyes, and I had never before seen Natasha Romanoff so afraid of a mission. Sure, taking down the Red Room had been tough on her, and she had been nervous, and guilty, but not scared. No, she had been determined. But now… she seemed so lost, so caught up in her web of despair that it crushed me internally to see my strong partner crumble to pieces.

"We have to go undercover, Clint." She finally whispered, and I raised an eyebrow because briefing was tomorrow and she shouldn't know the full details of the mission until then.

"Did you hack into their systems?" I replied, tucking the tag that was sticking out from her singlet back under the fabric absentmindedly. She was extremely tense.

She nodded. "And… we're acting as a newly wed couple. With a baby."

My soothing rubbing haltered momentarily and my head whipped to the side so I could stare at her with wide-eyes.

"You mean…?"

"Yeah. We have a baby."

"Is that even legal?"

"It is when S.H.I.E.L.D needs it. She's a newborn, no more then five months old. Her parents died in a car accident, so S.H.I.E.L.D … _borrowed _her from the adoption agency taking care of her. She has no other family, they were very poor."

I closed my eyes as I took all this in, pinching the bridge of my nose because this was one of the most fucked up missions I'd ever been assigned to.

"What's her name?"

"Natalia Campos."

I let out a humorous laugh. "Do you think Fury is fucking with us? Giving us a baby who's parents died in a car accident like mine, and has the same name as you used to?"

"Something about this is telling me that Fury doesn't have much of a say in what this mission includes." She sighed, and I tucked a loose curl behind her ear.

"You mean you think the Council is responsible for all of this?"

"Exactly."

"Just as we thought they were off of our backs…" I growled, and Natasha nodded her head in agreement when a very irritated cough came from the doorway.

"Who was off your backs?" Bobbi asked, leaning against the frame in the same shirt that Natasha loved so much, and I tensed when she turned her head away from Bobbi and faced me with a deadly, mocking smile on her lips.

"None of your business," Natasha replied in her sweetest girly tone, facing Bobbi with a sour smile on her face.

"You know what? I think Arrow is waiting to be fed. You kind of interrupted us." Bobbi sneered, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder and crossing her arms.

Natasha chuckled and leaned over to me, brushing her lips against my ear and cupping my cheek in her smooth hand, and her breath tickled my neck and caused goosebumps to rise on my skin.

"I thought I could see a bulge under the blanket," she whispered, so quiet that even I found it hard to hear when she was right in my ear. I froze in shock and embarrassment as she slid her hand down my jaw to my throat and trailed all the way to my taut shoulder as she pulled back and slipped her smooth, bare legs out of the blankets, bent over me to grab her laptop and sauntered out of the room.

As she passed Bobbi, I took the opportunity to compare the two agents while they were so close and both so ruffled. Natasha had no pants on, and even though her singlet covered past her hips, I could still see the bottom of her light blue lace panties that she wore.

Bobbi was taller then Natasha, and despite her long, tanned brown legs, warm brown eyes and long, blonde locks, I preferred the shorter, porcelain legs, emerald green eyes and red curls that belonged to my partner.

Bobbi glared at Natasha as she glided past with a seductive smirk on her lips, and although I knew she was acting it all out to make Bobbi jealous, I couldn't help but wish that she were acting it for me. I bet she was going back to her room to drown in her thoughts about the upcoming mission that awoke so many nightmares for her.

"What was that all about?" Bobbi hissed, slamming the door none-too gently and gesturing to the ruffled blankets that my Russian partner had just climbed out of.

"We were discussing the mission that's coming up," I said, narrowing my eyes as she scoffed and clambered back into the bed.

"Seemed like a little more then 'discussing' to me." She grumbled, folding her arms over her chest and staring at the ceiling like a hormonal teenager.

"She was upset, it's something personal to her, mind your own business."

We didn't have sex that night.

.

**_Natasha's POV_**

Clint and I both went for a jog with Arrow that morning, leaving Bobbi asleep in his bed without a note or anything to tell her of our whereabouts.

He took me through a different rout around Central Park, pointing out his favorite spots to think and relax when he had days off, and we stopped in the deserted area that he found Arrow in because he just thought it was hilarious how he had taken down those thugs that night.

"Is that how you got this cut?" I asked, tracing the scab by his hairline with a delicate finger.

"Yeah." He said, catching my wrist and tracing the visible veins on my hand.

"Usually your not that sloppy." I mused, ignoring the fire burning in my bones at his light traces. "What was bothering you to make you lose focus?"

He haltered his traces momentarily; he seemed to be doing that a lot. Haltering.

"Phil and I had a meeting. That's why I was here. To think. Guess it was just on my mind too much and was weighing me down."

"What did you's talk about?" I asked, gently tugging my wrist out of his grasp to bend down and re-tie my shoelace.

"Work. You know, it's been pretty stressful with the Council lately. He just wanted to make sure I was alright."

I knew he was lying because Coulson wouldn't organize a meeting simply to discuss how Clint was feeling because he did that on a regular basis. But I knew he was uncomfortable, so I let the subject drop and whistled for Arrow to come back so we could head home.

Clint wandered off to fill his water bottle by the fountain, and I turned and knelt down so I could re-clasp the leash to Arrows collar. He licked at my face and I spluttered and pushed away, falling backwards but rolling neatly and standing back up straight with barely a hair out of place.

What I didn't expect was to come to contact with a tall, solid figure that seemed to come out of nowhere.

"Oh, I'm so sorry I was just- Natasha?"

I rubbed my head and looked up at the familiar tall man with the penetrating dark blue eyes, and felt my insides jump in shock because there hadn't been a single soul standing about and now he was suddenly right in my face, and I _hadn't heard a thing._

"Hi." I breathed, tucking a curl behind my ear and bending down to pick up the leash from the floor and tug Arrow back to my side as he tried to wander off.

"That was a pretty smooth roll you did there – up until I ruined it for you." He chuckled, rubbing his chest with his gloved hand.

"Yeah, sorry, I didn't see you there." I replied, looking around the park. "Where did you come from, exactly?" I asked, trying not to sound too suspicious as I gestured to the closed off bushes and the lone car park. There was only one path that came into this area, and he didn't come that way.

"I, uh, I got lost again, believe it or not. This place is just so big, it's easy to step off path."

"Yeah." I nodded, my suspicion never leaving my mind. He looked down at me with his gleaming white smile and perfectly straight teeth, and I found myself staring a little too intensely into his beautiful eyes.

"Aren't you hot?" I asked, nodding to the thick coat and gloves he wore once again.

He shrugged. "I suppose."

"Why so many layers, then?"

"I'm…" he started, but trailed off and looked away from me.

"C'mon, tell!" I smiled, playing the flirty female he hoped I was.

"I'm a little self conscious of my body." He let out a breathy laugh, and I was just about to ask why when Clint came jogging back, calling my name and looking at the tall man suspiciously.

I stood on my tiptoes and watched over his shoulder as Clint came to a stop next to me, looking from the man to myself in confusion.

"Who's this?"

Clint never beats around the bush. An irritating trait he'd learnt from Coulson.

"My name is James."

_James. _Something stirred within me, but it was a foreign feeling, and I pushed it aside because I only just noticed the rather cold, hostile looked that James was giving Clint, his blue eyes icy and calculating as he stared at the shorter man beside me.

Either Clint hadn't noticed the glare or was choosing to ignore it, either way he smiled his charming smile, the one where his bottom lip was slightly wonky but only made it all the more breath taking, and held out his hand.

"I'm Clint."

James only stared at his palm with no outward reaction, and Clint let his hand drop back to his side and let the smile vanish off his face at the rudeness being portrayed.

"Well, we better get going." I said, looking from man to man as they both stared right into each other's eyes with a sudden hatred burning in their irises. I placed a palm on Clint's chest and started to turn him away, and anyone would think it was an act of intimacy, but Clint knew it was more of a warning, and he trusted my warnings. "It was nice seeing you again, James."

Without taking his eyes off of Clint, he simply replied. "You too, Natal- Natasha."

Neither one of us missed his slip up as we turned away and made our way back down the path we'd come from.

"Nice friend you got there," Clint grumbled, stuffing his hands into his pocket and looking down at me with a mocking smirk.

"Yeah." I replied, "Him and Bobbi would make a great couple."

We didn't bring up the suspicious man named James because Clint knew it was something I didn't want to talk about.

Why was he just about to call me Natalia?

.

_Yes my fellow readers, I tricked you. They are not going to Budapest just yet, they are going to Brazil because I didn't want to just jump right into the good stuff so quickly. _

_The mission will be fully explained in the next chapter, do not fret, but poor Natasha having to face one of her worse nightmares!_

_And James doesn't like Clint too much D: I wonder why…?_

_Leave a review and tell me what you think!_


	4. Dancers, Partners, Lovers

_**Natasha's POV**_

"His name is Edwardo Cosimo, one of the best biologists in the world. He worked for S.H.I.E.L.D twenty-three years ago but we had him deported when we found out he was creating scientifically enhance mutated plants that were poisoning our doctors after they grew out of control. He landed himself on the radar, but remained silent for years by starting his own business in a chemist and making a fortune. Until now."

Fury dragged his finger across the clear screen and pulled open a tab, revealing the profile of an elderly man with greying black hair and a neatly trimmed moustache.

"Ah, he even looks like a mad scientist." Clint grumbled under his breath, swinging back and forth in his chair beside my tense form.

Fury ignored him. "We sent out two agents to follow him 'round after capturing footage of him slipping small capsules into civilians drinks, thinking he was still up to his crazy inventing and was up to no good. Turns out this is far more dangerous then we thought."

I scoffed and folded my arms over my chest, and to my complete and utter surprise, I felt Clint's warm, calloused roughened hand land itself on my thigh and give me a reassuring squeeze. I looked around, shocked, but no one seemed to notice the small gesture that sent my heart ablaze and my fingertips tingling.

"Recent intel has given us vital evidence that Edwardo Cosimo has been kidnapping infants from all around Brazil, holding them captive in his mansion for reasons that we do not know. We should have suspected something earlier, due to the high rate in missing children in the area, but we were sloppy. And now we are leaving it up to the four of you to find out, and take down whatever this sick man is up to."

"Four of us?" Clint asked, pulling his hand away and bringing it up to rest his elbows on the overly large conference table surrounded by the five of us.

Hill stood then, nodding for Coulson to follow behind her as they left the room. Fury swiped at the screen for a bit more before letting it turn blank and coming to sit back down.

"Agent Romanoff, I would like to have a private word with you once we finish briefing." He said quietly, looking me in the eye with his own and I only nodded because I already knew this was coming.

Phil and Hill walked back in then, and if it were even possible, I felt my body grow even stiffer at the small bundle of blankets that Coulson was carrying in his arms. Clint instantly sat straight in his seat and let his eyes follow Coulson as he rounded the table and came to a stop to stand between the two of us with an unreadable expression on his face.

"This is Natalia Campos."

The small girl gargled quietly when Phil bought the small baby into Clint's waiting arms, and I think everyone in the room was captivated by the way Clint's much larger hands cupped her small body as he held her in front of him, in the most natural way that anyone would think he was a dad. His stormy eyes glazed over with a mesmerized glint and a small smile spread over his lips as he looked over at me, taking in a deep breath and smile growing wider before looking back down at the little girl.

"Look at her…" he whispered, so quietly that only Phil and I could hear his words, and I finally tore my eyes away from his gentle face and looked down at the baby he held in his arms.

She had light blue eyes that resembled pieces of the sky that twinkled merrily in the fluorescent lights from above. She had rosy pink cheeks and a little button nose with a small tuft of fair blonde hair and was wrapped so snugly in the blankets that I found myself wondering what I looked like as a baby and if I was ever held with so much passion as she was.

Her roaming eyes finally landed on me, and they held so much youth and innocence that I found myself reaching out to take her into my own arms.

Clint passed her to me without a word, and I shifted her into my arms until she was cradled and held against my beating chest as if it were made for a baby like her to rest upon.

I didn't even know I was smiling. A true, genuine, happy smile that revealed the small dimples on my left cheek and had my eyes crinkling in the corners. When I looked up, I only just noticed the nervousness that was basically coming off of Fury and Hill in waves, and the smile vanished from my face.

They thought I was going to hurt her?

"You said four of us were going," Clint started, noticing Fury's stiff posture and my blank expression as I held Natalia in my arms. "Who else?"

"I'm coming." Phil said from behind him, and my brows knotted together in confusion and I tore my eyes away from the babies face and turned to look up at him.

"Why?"

"To help you," Hill cut in, eyes resting on Natalia before looking up at me. "You know, children can be stressful, and while you two are undercover, he'll be there to help."

"How would you know the first thing about raising children?" Clint scoffed, reaching over to rub a large hand over her soft blonde hair.

"I have experience. I had to raise you."

We all actually broke into laughter, even Fury, because this was such a rare and touching moment and this child seemed to lighten the mood in everyone's soul.

All too soon Coulson was taking the baby out of my arms and took her back to the nursery (S.H.I.E.L.D had a nursery?) and we were all business and my arms felt strangely empty.

"You two will be acting as a newly wed couple with a baby. Coulson is Clint's older brother and he'll be afloat throughout the whole mission. Natasha will apply for a job as a maid and Clint as a chef and within time, gain the needed information before you two rescue the children and take Edwardo Cosimo down. He'll have a lab somewhere in his mansion. Grab as many vials, as many samples of any toxin in there for us to do future studies on."

"What are our cover names?" I mumbled, crossing my empty arms over my chest.

"You two are Scarlett and Jeremy Lasko. Your baby is Sarah and you are the typical American couple coming to start a new life. Fake ID and passports are already in the making and will be complete by the time you leave for Brazil. Your home has already been selected and set up with photo shopped portraits and such, and a furniture delivery will be organized to make it look like you are moving in. Natalia is the bait, she'll catch his eye and hopefully make a move to reveal what he's planning."

"How long will we be there for?" Clint asked.

"We don't know. Could be weeks, could be months. As long as it takes for you two to discover what is going on and how you plan on executing the plan. Think of it as a holiday, you're in Brazil."

"And keep us posted," Hill added, glancing at her watch and then standing up, excusing herself from the room.

"Do we have to pack anything?"

Fury rolled his one good eye and scoffed under his breath. "Ain't nobody got time for that. We got your luggage and weapons covered. Now get the hell out of my office."

Clint and Phil silently left the briefing room and I was left sitting across from the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

"I assume your wondering why I am sending you on this mission when you made a clear request to _not _do so?" he started, and I relaxed into my seat because I was finally going to get an explanation.

"Yes, Sir."

"It is not out of spite, Romanoff. When we learnt about the children, I was halfway through organizing a new team to take it over and relieve it of you, but that goddamned Council popped up on my screen and threatened you with termination."

"I figured that," I replied coolly, eyes hardening at the mention of the Council and their pathetic schemes.

Fury folded his hands together. "There is a lot behind Natalia's story then you know, Romanoff." He sighed. "But for your sake, we are giving her a new identity and a new name."

"Sir, you don't have-"

"Trust me." Was all he said, opening a draw and sliding a file towards me. "In case you need to go over anything in the mission that you may forget." He nodded.

"Thank you."

"By the way, The World Security Council isn't the most powerful group of people in the world, either. I'll be organizing a meeting with their boss soon and telling them about the 'work place bullying' being portrayed." He mumbled, rolling his eye at the use of his words. I nodded and stood up to leave, but stopped in the doorway and turned around.

"Sir, why were you and Hill so worried about me holding Natalia?"

"We just didn't know how you would react." He mumbled, and I read every line in his face, the glint in his eye and the turn of his lips, and knew he wasn't telling the truth.

I nodded and left to go find Clint.

.

_**Clint's POV**_

"See something you like?"

Even though I knew she was watching, I continued my stretches on the mat and let her stare from the doorway.

"Maybe."

I finally turned around and nearly fell on my face when I saw the black tutu and ballet shoes she wore.

"This is new." I raised an eyebrow, and she winked and stepped forward, her skirts twirling at the lightest of winds. She started pulling her hair up into a messy but atop her head, and she climbed into the ring and onto the mats to join me.

"Memories are coming back," she mumbled, bending right down to touch her toes. "And I'm starting to remember which ones are dreams and which were actually real."

I watched her slide to the floor in a full split and bend forward and stretch her arms out in front of her.

"I can remember my dance lessons, and I can remember the performances I was sent to do to trick a target. And despite the pain, when I danced, I felt free and alive."

I took her hand when she reached out, and she gracefully rose from her position on the floor and started to use my shoulder as a leverage to point her toes and such.

"Did you ever dance?"

I shook my head. "No, but I learnt some pretty neat moves in the circus. There was this girl, Annabel. She was so graceful on the tight rope, so light on her feet. She taught me the basics."

Natasha raised one of her eyebrows and took a step back, holding out her hand for me to take.

"Do you think you can keep up?"

My mouth fell open slightly. "With ballet? No." I scoffed. I took her hand anyway.

She rose on her toes and locked eyes with my own, drifting her free arm out to the side and circling around me in neat little steps. I turned with her until we made a full circle, and she bent forward and lifted her let so high into the air that it towered over my head.

I raised our hands and she stood up straight, left leg still in the air as I twirled her light and delicate body with my hand, grabbing her waist when she came to a stop and pulling her close.

"It's all about technique and strength," she whispered, almost robotically, turning and pressing her back flush against my chest, guiding my second hand to her opposite hip and resting her fingers atop my hand.

"Poise and grace…" she continued, tilting her head up to look at me, nose brushing against my jaw and breath tickling my neck.

I looked down and smiled, and watched as she rose to a full Pointe in front of me, and almost out of instinct, I bent down slightly to get a better hold of her body, and with a slight push, she leapt into the air, legs open wide and arms spread gracefully before landing back to the ground with hardly any noise at all.

"Were you the only one who had to do ballet?" I whispered in her ear, ducking my head to rest my chin on her shoulder and breath in her sweet, strictly Natasha scent.

She nodded. "I was the only one who had to do a lot of things. Girls got very jealous."

"I don't blame them."

She smiled and laced her fingers through my own, bringing my right hand down, low past her hip, fingers dancing lightly across her skirts so close to my desired destination, but she kept them travelling, down and around her mid thigh, and I helped her to bring her leg up straight in front of her, watching her strong calf muscles flex under the strain and feeling her shake slightly.

If on purpose or not, she let out a deep breath and faltered, leg snapping down like a rubber band and sending us both stumbling to the ground with her on top (Natasha never stumbled) and we burst out into a bubble of laughter that vibrated through the two of us and filled the large gym.

"But goddamn it hurts!" she laughed, resting her head on my heaving chest and gripping my biceps absentmindedly.

"I bet it does."

We both looked up to see Bobbi standing on the other side on the ring, looking tall and slim in her navy blue cat suit (but nowhere _near _as good as Natasha) and a very pissed expression on her face. Natasha just continued laughing and dropped her head back onto my chest with a growl, before rolling off and plopping onto the mat next to me.

"Hey, Bob," I chuckled, lifting up my head to give her a stiff wave before heaving myself off the floor and sitting next to Natasha's lazy body sprawled on the mats with black skirts and red hair all around.

"Do you really think that was appropriate?" she hissed, looking pointedly at my partner's visible legs with hatred burning in her eyes.

"Oh, you saw that?" I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck, and I heard Natasha snort on the ground behind me. "We were just having a bit of fun."

"If that's your definition of 'a bit' of fun, then I'd hate to see what the two of you got up to when you're having 'a lot' of fun."

"Мой бог ... просто скажи ей, что мы трахались уже и вытащить ее отсюда."

_My god… just tell her we fucked already and get her out of here._

I let out a choked laugh and smacked my Russian partner on the leg, and she only laughed a bit more before raising to sit in line with me and cross her legs.

"What? What did she just say?" Bobbi narrowed her eyes at my clearly amused partner, and for once, her amusement wasn't an act.

"Oh, nothing." She sung, pulling her hair out of dishevelled bun and letting her red curls spill over her back like blood.

"We're leaving for our mission tomorrow morning. I don't know when we'll be back, so I'll see you then, I guess." I shrugged, nudging Natasha with my shoulder and she looked at me in hardly disguised surprise.

"Is that all I get?" Bobbi sneered, placing her hand on her hips and taking a step forward.

"You heard him." Natasha spat, "We're going to Brazil! And we have a baby."

I felt like face palming myself, and had to cover the snort with a cough.

"You know what, don't even bother rocking up at my place again. I'm just not feeling it anymore."

Bobbi spluttered for quite some time, the incredulous look on her face completely laughable (like everything else in this situation) and I might have felt guilty for being so nasty to her, if it weren't for the fact that Natasha and I hadn't had this much fun in ages and the answer that slipped out of Bobbi's mouth was something I did not expect.

"Good. I was fucking one of the newbie's anyway." She cried, turning and storming out of the gym.

"Hope he enjoys my sloppy seconds!" I shouted after her, before the loud _BOOM _echoed through the gym and we were both back on the ground rolling in a fit of laughter again.

"Did you see her face?" Natasha gasped, clutching her stomach and crinkling her nose.

"God she was getting annoying."

We finally found the more mature side of out adulthood and pulled ourselves out of our silly state of laughter, helping each other up off the mat and sharing my bottle of water for our overly dry throats.

"You know," she started, bending over right in front of my face to start unlacing the ribbons to her shoes. "I never recall dancing with a partner… but when you held me… it felt so _natural _and I'm starting to wonder if the man in my dreams and the rose stem are all connected in some way and if we were lovers or dancers or…"

"Or what?"

"Partners."

I frowned as she straightened up and kicked off her shoes. "If you were, that partnership wasn't real. You weren't bought together by pure trust and sacrifice. I'm your only partner."

Her brows knitted together but she simply nodded ansshe collected her shoes and stepped towards me, so close that I could feel her warmth radiating off of her skin as she brushed her lips against my ear.

"Танцоры, партнеры ... Любители ... они все вам."

I felt my heart rate spike up as she pulled away and sauntered out of the ring, leaving me alone in the gym to collect my thoughts and try to concentrate on the upcoming mission that she was trying so hard to take seriously. I shook my head, collected my bag and left the gym, never noticing my handler watching from the second story window with his lips pursed and hands knotted behind his back.

_Dancers, partners… lovers… they're all you._

_._

Natasha didn't dream that night and Clint didn't speak to Bobbi again.

No, instead they lay in their beds and stared at the roof as they pondered the most emotionally challenging mission that would take place in mere hours. Living a new life, with new identities and a family… they were both afraid of how this would impact on them, if their partnership would be bought closer or torn further apart, but neither one of them wanted the second, and after the days strange, mixed signalled events, they found themselves allowing each other to curl into their arms and mould themselves in the most comfortable position together, falling into an easy sleep that would prepare them for whatever they would have to face.

It was the first time they slept in the same bed, and if Coulson were to find out they did it outside of mission acts, he would certainly believe that they were a compromised case.

.

_I realized people were having trouble with reading the story when I jumped from POV's all the time, so I've gone back and edited it all and hopefully it will be a bit easier. _

_Anyway, I was at least __**5 **__reviews before I post the next chapter, and I know some of you are a bit sceptical of my story, but the plot with thicken and continue to thicken because it's Clint and Natasha and their lives are never simple. _

_So get reviewing and help the update speed up!_

_Plus, what is baby-Natalia's big secret? Stay tuned and review to find out!_


	5. Waking Hours

_**Clint's POV**_

There is nothing more admirable than to watch a beautiful Russian assassin sleep.

Whether it sounded creepy or not, I didn't care. I was a sniper. My job is to watch every move, to examine and predict what my target shall do. To be patient.

Except Natasha was not a target, and she was not predictable, and I didn't have to be patient because even with her sleep-ruffled hair and make-up free face, she was the most perfect thing to watch.

The permanent frown on her brow had softened and she looked so young, so innocent. Her calm, deep breathing was like a soothing melody, and I listened to it for who knows how long because this was such a pure moment and I knew it would be rare; to see Natasha so completely and utterly vulnerable.

But soon the moment was over and she was stirring from underneath the blankets, and I knew she was awake long before she opened her eyes because I didn't pay that much attention only to be fooled by her acting.

She peeked at me through the thick lashes of her left eye, keeping the other closed, and groaned when she saw me watching her.

"Why are you staring at me?" she grumbled, turning her head and pressing it flat into the pillow.

"Cause I can. Plus, it's my bed."

She only moaned in response, burying her face further into the pillow to the point of suffocation.

"What's up?" I asked, leaning on my elbow and cracking me neck from side to side.

"You already know." She mumbled against the pillows, her voice muffled.

Of course I already knew. She was dreading the mission ahead.

"It can't be too bad, Tasha."

"Mm."

I rolled my eyes and grabbed her by the shoulder, rolling her over because she was _not _suffocating her way out of this mission.

"How much longer til' we gotta be at base?" She slurred, covering her eyes with her arm and rolling into my side.

I looked over at the alarm. "Three and a half hours."

"Good." She grunted, grabbing the hem of the blankets and pulling it over our heads, blocking out the sunlight that intruded the room from the crack in the curtain. "We don't have to pack; we can sleep for another two hours and shower later."

I chuckled and turned over so she was curled into my chest, her face pressing into my neck and my chin resting atop her head, and despite the closeness, the intimacy, there was nothing sexual about it. Merely comfort.

"I like the way you think."

.

_**Natasha's POV**_

He was caressing me. Clint was sloppily tracing soft patterns on my back and I didn't even care because it just felt so right.

What made the situation even better was that he was asleep. If he can caress my back and make me melt into a puddle of mush in his sleep, what would he be able to do when he was awake?

I pushed the intruding thoughts out of my mind and instead, poked my head out of the blankets and checked the time. One hour til we go to base.

I sighed and ducked back under the blankets, gently grabbing Clint's hand that was still tracing against my spine and bringing it up to my face so he was cupping my cheek.

"Clint."

He awoke straight away, blinking sleepily and finally registering the way I was holding his hand against my face. He smiled sloppily and stroked his thumb gently over my cheekbone.

"Acting as husband and wife might not be that bad." He grinned, and I swatted him lightly on the shoulder, pulling the blankets off and sitting up, letting his hand drop into my lap.

"Phil will be there." I reminded him, not only for his benefit, but also for mine because I couldn't agree more with his statement.

"Phil can go die in a hole." He grumbled, pulling his hand away and dragging them down his face. "Wait, no. I need someone to fill in my paperwork when I don't know the answers."

"I thought you made me do that anyway?"

"Only with the hard stuff. He's not _that _nice."

I laughed into my hand and then crinkled my nose in distaste at the horrible smell that met my nose.

"What?" he asked.

"Morning breath." I mumbled, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed and standing, letting Clint's long shirt fall over my panties as I walked towards the door.

"I see you've reclaimed my shirt once again."

I shook my head. "No. I've had this one stuffed in my draws for months; I threw the one that Bobby wore into the trash."

"Immature." He chuckled. "But I do find it kinky that you keep my shirts in your draws for your own pleasure."

"I think I kept it more out of spite."

He pouted playfully at me before getting out of bed, and I mesmerized his sun-kissed, sculpted chest and abbs that I just had the privilege of sleeping on.

"I'm having the first shower. Go take Arrow out for a piss." I mumbled, walking down the hall and toward the bathroom.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, hands flying to his hair in sudden panic. "Where is Arrow going to stay?"

"Relax. I already organized with Coulson to have the S.H.I.E.L.D sniffer dog squad take him in. He might even learn a few tricks."

He let his arms drop to his sides and shot me a gleaming smile. "Why are you so brilliant, Tasha?"

"It comes naturally." I shrugged, closing the bathroom door behind me.

.

An hour later Clint and I were striding through the halls of base with Arrow following on a leash, dressed in full uniform and ready for take off. When we arrived outside of Coulson's office, we were mildly surprised that he was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a baby-blue button up shirt, glasses tucked into the collar and sneakers squeaking on the tiles.

"What the hell are you two wearing?"

"Uh… uniform?" Clint raised an eyebrow.

"Get in here. I knew this would be an issue. There's clothes on the desk; I'll go take Arrow to the sniffer dog department."

Coulson snatched the leash from Clint's hands, and Arrow followed obediently, tail wagging and tongue hanging out. As the door closed, we heard him yell "What the hell are you looking at?!" to a wandering agent, and we both realised how strange it was to see Phil Coulson dressed in casual wear rather than a suit, with a scruffy dog in tow.

"Well, someone's not happy." Clint grumbled, walking up to the desk and fumbling through the pile of clothes. "Could've separated them for us…"

"I'm sure Coulson assumed you weren't dumb enough to wear mini shorts and a red tank top." I shook my head, grabbing my article of clothing and wandering to the other side of the office.

"Oh."

We got dressed silently, leaving our uniform folded on Coulson's desk. I slipped on my flip-flops and Clint tied the laces to his runners, and we were both hesitant to open the door and retrieve more stares than usual from what we were wearing.

When we reached the briefing room, we were surprised to see Hill rocking baby Natalia in her arms, bottle propped in hand and that rare half smile plastered on her face as she whispered quiet little chants to the angle in her arms.

I tensed at the sight at the small baby, still not used to the concept of actually using her as a balm in the mission, but Clint was there and he gently tugged me by the elbow to keep me moving and I was grateful that we didn't have to use words to read what we were thinking.

Hill didn't notice us, or pretended not to, just walked around the room and bounced Natalia gently in her arms. Fury and Coulson walked in then, and Coulson sized up Clint's grey trousers and black shirt in distaste.

"Why do I look like the fool headed for Hawaii…" he grumbled, walking past us and rummaging through some draws, pulling out multiple maps and brochures.

"Why so tense, Coulson?" I asked.

"Because I'm not used to going undercover." He sighed in exasperation.

Clint and I both laughed, and he pouted a little, looking younger in his holiday attire. "Just leave it up to us. Put those sheets away." Clint waved him off, and Coulson took a deep, calming breath and regained his composure.

"Ready for take off?" Fury announced, clasping his hands behind his back and looking at the four of us with his roaming eye.

"Will Natalia be okay on the quin jet?" I asked as Hill came to a standstill beside me.

"She's a good baby." She murmured. "She'll be fine. I fed her and she's already falling asleep; she shouldn't be a hassle at all."

I smiled at the woman next to me, and she smiled back, and I never before this moment considered Maria Hill as a friend until now.

I didn't notice Clint was holding his arms out expectantly until Hill was handing a sleepy Natalia over into his strong arms, and I was once again transfixed by the way he was so bold and confident, yet so gentle and soft as he held her.

"Jet leaves in ten minutes. Luggage has already been boarded. There's no turning back now." Fury stepped forward, holding out three smart phones to me. I took them and passed one over to Coulson, who raised an eyebrow but pocketed it anyway. Since Clint's arms were full, I slipped the phone into the pockets in his pants without a word.

"Can't turn back with the Council half way up our noses." Clint chuckled, never taking his eyes off the sleeping baby in his arms.

"Oh, and to avoid confusion, start calling her Sarah. We've already signed the documents. That's her official name." Hill cut in before we left, and I nodded in return.

As we boarded the jet, all three of us were surprised to see the small-inbuilt cot that was structured behind the pilot seats with a shelf full of nappies and powder and baby formula and such. Clint chuckled and gently placed her into the cushioned cot, staring at Sarah's peaceful face for a little longer then necessary before turning and strapping himself into his seat.

"Please tell me where not headed for São Paulo?" I sighed, lolling my head to the side and staring at the cot.

Both men raised an eyebrow as the jet took flight.

"No. We're going to Fortaleza." Coulson nodded. "Didn't you read that file?"

"Not really. Didn't want to think about it."

"What's so bad about São Paulo?" Clint asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"Let's save that story for a rainy day, shall we?" I mumbled, closing my eyes.

They didn't press the conversation further.

The dreadful beating in my heart grew louder and more erratic, drumming in my ears and I was afraid that my handler and my partner could hear it. Although I seemed calm and collected on the outside, my insides were screaming to jump out of this jet.

.

_I know the chapter is only short and I know that it's been a long __**long **__time since I've updated, and you all know why from my previous message, but I hope you can all forgive me. _

_A big THANKYOU to everyone who reviewed and messaged and helped me to write this small little chapter. It helped a lot and I hope I can finally gather my wits enough to get this story right. _

_Everything's getting on track now, yay! But your help and recommendations are still greatly appreciated and I'm keen to hear what you all have to say!_

_So leave a review and help get this baby back on the road! REVIEW!_


	6. Passion

_**Clint's POV**_

The house that we were living in for the mission was on the outer suburbs of the city of Fortaleza, and ten minute walk from the beach and a fifteen minute drive from Edwardo Cosimo's mansion.

"How'd he get so rich again?" Natasha asked when we finally settled into the house. I had gone food shopping because Fury thought it would be funny to only supply baby products and nothing for the adults.

Coulson and Natasha were both sitting cross-legged on the lounge, and Coulson had changed out of his Hawaiian attire and was sitting in some grey track pants and a singlet.

"He has chemists all around Brazil. We have undercover Agents working in every one to them to supervise his staff and make sure no funny business goes down with the drugs. So far we've had seventeen reports within the last month that he and his clients are selling the wrong drugs or prescribing customers with inappropriate doses."

"Isn't that enough to get him arrested?" Natasha asked, and as I placed down the shopping into the kitchen and wandered down to where they were sitting, they both threw me an irritated look for interrupting.

"It is, but we're not reporting it because of the babies. Once we figure out what he's doing, he'll have a life time sentence for kidnapping and experimenting as well as the drugs."

"Speaking of which, when does the mission start?" I asked, sitting down on the love chair and holding my arms out for Sarah, who was leaning on Coulson's tummy in a sitting position in his lap.

"We go in for the interview tomorrow." Natasha replied as Coulson passed Sarah into my arms. I smiled down at her and drew her to my chest, rubbing a calloused finger over her small button nose and watching as her big blue eyes wandered around the room in curiosity.

"You do realise I can't cook gourmet meals, right?" I sighed.

"I don't know about that, your pancakes are pretty good." Natasha smirked, eyes lingering longer then necessary as she looked at the way I held onto Sarah's small body.

"Sure, I'll just serve up some pancakes for breakfast, lunch and tea." I rolled my eyes.

"Wait," Natasha raised an eyebrow and looked over to Coulson. "Why does Edwardo need a chef?"

Coulson face-palmed. "Next time we go on a mission, can you _please _try to read the files? Just the important stuff?"

Natasha and I shared an innocent glance and nodded in sync.

"There are about thirty other scientists that take residence in his mansion. _That's _why he needs so many chefs and maids. It's like a big hotel for evil scientists who are trying to do weird shit to babies."

"Oh." Natasha narrowed her eyes. "So not only do we have to snoop around and uncover the mystery, but we have to do it with thirty scientists involved in the scandal who will be willing to do anything to keep it all a secret?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Natasha and I both sighed and rolled our eyes because this mission just keeps getting harder and harder.

I nearly jumped out of my socks when a shrill, pained cry came from my arms and Sarah's small, petite arms were flailing around and her face was bright red as she scrunched up her small features for whatever reason that I did not know.

"What did you _do?!" _Natasha cried, jumping up from the couch and covering her ears.

Before I knew it, Coulson was snatching Sarah out of my arms and was rocking her gently, trying to calm her down as her screaming echoed through the house. I stared, shocked as he wandered into the kitchen, before turning to look over at Natasha.

Her head was bowed and her still had her hands pressed to her ears, eyes scrunched closed and back turned from the kitchen where the screaming was coming from.

"Hey, Tasha…" I mumbled, coming up to stand beside her. I grabbed her elbows and tried to pry her hands away from her ears, but she held on fast.

I sighed when she wouldn't budge, and instead slid my hands up so they were resting over hers. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, fear swirling in her green pools, and for the first time in all our partnership, I could see the tears pooling on her lashes, so close to spilling over the edge.

"It's okay," I whispered, bending down to be level with her face, hoping she could hear me, or read my lips. "She's fine, Nat. She's fine."

She took another deep breath, closing her eyes briefly to wash away the fear and the tears lurking by, before finally loosening the hold on her ears. I took that moment to entwine my fingers over hers and bring her hands over to my face, brushing my lips over the palm of each hand before pressing them to my chest, never letting go.

"I…" she started, but nothing else came out, and she bowed her head, causing her curls to fall in front of her face in a red veil, and I let go of one of her hands so I could tuck them behind her ears and bring her face back up by her chin.

"I know." I smiled.

Sarah's cries died down to a low gurgle, occasionally starting back up and reaching our ears from the kitchen, but Coulson managed to keep her calm and quiet by feeding or nursing her like a father while I dealt with Natasha's emotional attack.

Eventually Natasha dropped her hands from my grip and turned away from me, stalking down the hall and closing our bedroom door gently behind her.

I closed my eyes and dragged my hands down my face before wandering down the kitchen, standing in the doorway and watching as Coulson propped a bottle in Sarah's mouth and stepped around all the bags of shopping I'd dumped there as he bounced her gently in his arms.

"She's nearly asleep." He whispered, and I nodded before stepping forward and started unpacking the bags.

When Coulson made a move to step out of the kitchen, I quickly caught up with him.

"I think you should let me take her to bed. Natasha had a bit of a melt down."

He seemed hesitant to pass her over, but gently took the bottle away and handed her over to me.

I wasn't sure whether to knock on the door or let myself in, so I stood there for some time, quickly making a decision as Sarah began to gurgle and her eyes opened slightly as if to say 'what are you waiting for?'

I opened the door without knocking and closed it behind me, keeping Sarah in a strong hold all the time. When I looked up, I saw Natasha sitting beside the cot in the cushioned rocking chair, chin propped in her hand and legs drawn up as she stared blankly at the wall ahead.

I continued walking into the room and pulled open the blankets, before gathering Sarah's small body in my hands and gently lowering her into the cushions. It was a rather large cot, fit with the twirling mobile above her head and teddies all around. She let out a shallow breath and I popped a dummy inside of her mouth as she drifted off to sleep.

Natasha hadn't shifted, hadn't even let her gaze wander, and when Sarah was tucked under the blankets, I knelt down in front of her and rested my large hands over her cold feet.

She wiggled her toes from underneath my palm, and finally let her eyes make contact with my own.

"Are you okay?"

She shook her head.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She looked like she was about to nod, but just as I thought she was, she shook her head instead.

I pursed my lips and listened as the sound of the waves crashing in the ocean drifted through the window, and a brilliant idea popped into my mind.

"Want to go to the beach?"

She nodded.

.

_**Natasha's POV**_

The way the sand felt between my toes felt so foreign yet so familiar, and memories flashed back into my mind of the first time that I had wandered along the ocean.

Except it wasn't in the middle of a mission in action and I wasn't working for the Red Room and I didn't need to rush. No, this time I was with Clint, and it made all the difference in the world to have him childishly running through the water and trying to splash me.

"Come in, Tasha!" he called as a wave washed up his footprints, and I folded my arms over my chest and shook my head.

"It's too cold!" I called back, tucking my hair behind my ear as the wind blew past my face.

"Oh please," he scoffed, walking up from the water and coming to stand in front of me. "You were born in Russia; you _know _this is not cold."

"I haven't been to Russia for years." I defended, and he placed his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes.

"Remember when we went on the mission to take the Red Room down? And we had to swim in that icy lake?"

Now I rolled my eyes. "_Who _was the one that suggested we do that?" He pressed.

"Me." I sighed in defeat.

"Exactly. I think you can handle twenty degree water." Before I knew it, he had me thrown over his shoulder and was marching us towards the sea.

I could have fought, I _would _have fought, but this was fun.

Until he gathered me in his arms and dangled me above the water, and if I made any rash move to free myself, I would have myself submerged in the salty ocean.

"Don't." I growled, gripping his bicep. He had one arm supporting my back and the other hooked under my knees and I could feel the cool water skimming my toes from below.

I looked up from the clear water and up at his face, and he was grinning down at me with so much amusement in his eyes that I wanted to slap the silly grin right off.

"Don't be such a prune." He chuckled, straightening up and holding me to his chest. "The waters nice."

He looked ahead, the sun shining into his stormy eyes and bringing out every single colour of grey and blue and green and making them illuminate his face.

I was so caught up in staring at the colour of his eyes that I didn't notice how they widened.

"Tasha…" he said in a warning voice, and I finally tore my eyes from his and looked ahead.

A huge, circulating, bubbly wave was making its way forward and was doing so very, _very _fast, and I took a deep breath, linking my arms around Clint's neck and burying my face in his chest before he was knocked off his feet and we were both tumbling through the waves, bodies tangling together as we were pushed further and further up the shore and left in a pile of limbs on the sand as the water slid back into the ocean as if it hadn't just left us tangled and gasping for breath.

We coughed the salty water out of our lungs and I found myself leaning my forehead against his own and just simply _laughing_ because that was the most ridiculous thing that had ever happened to the two of us, because not only did I get dunked from Clint's fooling around, but so did he!

We ignored the civilians that walked around us as we laughed, and I finally sat up and tried to breath, only then realising I was sitting on top of Clint and he had his hands resting firmly on my hips.

When he noticed my gaze lingering on his hands, he quickly snatched them away and held them up in innocence.

"I don't know how they got there."

I rolled my eyes and laughed a little more, feeling lighter then ever and just so _free, _before rolling off his lap and laying down in the sand beside him, not caring about how many grains that would get tangled in my curls anymore.

We lay there in companionable silence, watching the sky as the birds flew and the clouds drifted over the city, and the sun was casting an orange glow over Clint's features by the time I looked up at him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked without taking his eyes off of the sky, and I shrugged simply because I knew that he knew I would.

"I don't know what took over me. Her crying was just so… desperate… like one of my dreams coming true." I sighed, frowning to the sky. "And it was real, and it was heartbreaking and it made me realise just how reckless this mission is to be using her as a… _bribe _for the target."

"I know."

"No you don't."

Clint turned then to face me, eyes narrowed and grains of sand littered sluggishly over his face. "How would you know?"

I didn't reply because what could I say to that? I didn't know. He could be internally battling with himself just like me, he could be feeling regret and sorrow and despair, but maybe, for once, Clint had a better hold on his emotions… Maybe, for once, we weren't balanced with the situation, and Clint was the better spy.

When he noticed me pondering on my thoughts for too long, he lifted himself up from the sand and held out a hand to me. "C'mon. Enough mission talk. Let's go for a walk."

I nodded and held my hand out, grasping his wrist as he gently yanked me to my feet, and we began trekking back up the sandy slope to the patch of grass we left our shoes on. Because we were wet and covered in sand, we didn't put them on, just hooked them over our fingers and walked along the path as the sun dipped lower into the ocean and the moon rose from the depths of the waves to reclaim the sky.

"Hey," he begun as we crossed the road. "Why did you mention São Paulo on the jet?"

"No reason." I shrugged, hoping he wouldn't press the conversation further because this is just _not _what I want to be talking about.

"Tell."

I felt like rolling my eyes, but remained neutral as we swerved through the crowd of people who bustled through the city. "I was sent undercover back in the Red Room."

I would have thought that at the mention of my past, he would nod his head and accept the subtle answer, but he was being bold, and he was being persistent. "What happened?"

I fiddled absently with the shoes in my hands, shivering slightly as a gust of wind blew past and seeped through the damp, cold material of my clothes. "I was meant to take town a target, and it all went well, until we found out that I had left a witness who was able to report me to the police. When Ivan found out that my identity could be at risk, he was appalled by my lack of thoroughness."

"What did he do?"

"Well I was obviously punished. You know that scar that runs from my left shoulder blade and nearly curves around the right side of my waist?" he nodded. "They used the studded whip."

He shook his head in disgust. "Studded whip…" he scoffed under his breath. "That's beyond torture."

I nodded. "I think that's why they didn't wipe that memory; so I'd always have the lashing in the back of my mind when I went on missions. It worked, because I never screwed another one up that badly again, because I was cautious."

"What did they do after the whipping?"

"Sent me back to kill the witness." I sighed. "She was only eleven."

He didn't reply.

I swallowed the revolted lump that rose in my throat and closed my eyes, taking a calming breath through my nose to get my senses in the right places as we continued walking bare-footed through the city.

Music started to reach our ears and grew louder and louder with each step we took, and I was almost startled when Clint grabbed my wrist and turned me in the opposite direction to take me down an alley. The music was at it's loudest and when we turned the corner, we saw a dark, poorly dressed man strumming at his guitar and nodding his head to the beat as he sung with such a powerful voice that I found myself transfixed by his enthusiasm.

We stood there and listened for the rest of his song, smiling down at the man who didn't seem to notice our presence, and a couple of other passer biers stopped in their strolling to listen to his voice.

Clint had a small smile plastered on his face and was subtly nodding his head to the beat, eyes twinkling in the now bright moonlight that illuminated the skies. I glanced up at him and stared at his face as the music came to a stop, and watched as Clint reached into his back pocket and pulled out two damp bills and some coins, tossing them into the floppy hat by the mans foot and thanking him for the performance.

When we walked away, he stood a little closer then necessary, maybe for warmth or maybe for comfort; I didn't care.

"Did you see how much passion he put into his song?" he finally broke the silence as we started walking back the way we came. "At the time, it was the most important thing to him; to get every note right, to let his voice be heard by those he couldn't see."

I frowned. "He was blind?"

"Yeah," Clint sighed. "His eyes were so distant, so unfocused, but despite the dullness that lurked behind his irises, there was still a glimmer of hope in them."

"Well, you can't turn a blind eye on passion." I sighed, looking him dead in the eye because there was _so much more _meaning behind those words for the two of us.

He smiled briefly before looking ahead as we got closer to the beach and the path that led to our street, and I could basically hear him fighting with himself in his mind.

"I still love to perform." He finally spoke as we neared closer to our house. "That was my passion in the circus; performance. It meant everything to me. I'd give anything to do it again. Or even just play my guitar on the streets for others to hear."

"Why don't you?"

"Well, I have a passion for something else now." He chuckled, glancing down at me and nudging me with his elbow.

I didn't need him to tell me what it was.

When we dumped our shoes on the porch and walked through the front door in all our sandy and wet glory, Coulson was sitting on the lounge, reading a book by lamp-light. He glanced at us, took in our appearance, and without questioning anything at all, went back to his reading.

Clint took the first shower, and I took the second, and by the time I crept silently into our bedroom, he was fast asleep. I walked over to the cot to check that Sarah was comfortable, and Clint had obviously gotten to her first because there wasn't a hair out of place.

I smiled at the surreal situation, climbing into bed and feeling Clint's warmth from under the covers, and I was lulled to sleep by both his and Sarah's deep, even breathing.

When I woke up the next morning, I was lying on my stomach, and Clint had hiked up my shirt to trace the long, jagged scar that started from my left shoulder blade and curved down the right side of my waist, and I wasn't at all bothered with the gesture.

.

_Alright, mission begins next chapter! That's where the action begins. _

_I want at least __**7 **__reviews before I update next because they are my boost in confidence and at the moment, I don't feel like anyone is enjoying the story from the lack of response I'm getting :~(_

_So, review review review!_


	7. Temptation

_**Clint's POV**_

Sarah had only stirred up once during the night, and Coulson had come to the rescue when neither of us assassins made a move to help her.

I had woken up before Natasha, and Coulson had stolen Sarah during the night and kept her in his own room. She was lying on her stomach with the pillow hugged close to her face, and she looked so very peaceful in her morning snooze.

I rubbed my eyes and lay in bed beside her for quite some time, listening to the waves in the distance and the gulls that squawked outside the window. She shifted in her sleep, kicking off the blankets, and when I turned to look, I couldn't help but notice how the singlet she'd worn to bed had hiked up over her hips and revealed the light pink lace panties she wore underneath.

She's a tease even in her sleep.

Remembering the conversation from the night before, I frowned and looked closer to the scar that was wounding around her slightly revealed waist, and I gently, with feather-light touches, lifted the singlet until the whole of her back was revealed and I could see every scar, every burn that held so many battle stories from her past.

The biggest one, the deepest one that indented her skin in a jagged, dotted line across the length on her back was the most horrifying, and as I reached out to trace it, to feel the uneven skin underneath the pads of my fingers, I wished more then anything in the world that my touch would make all the pain and all the fear ago away.

I closed my eyes as my fingers blindly traced from her left shoulder blade to the curve of the right side of her waist, and I was close to drifting off to sleep and letting my hand lay flat against her completely bare back, until the atmosphere in the room shifted and I knew straight away that she had awoken.

She didn't move at first, and I continued the traces like I hadn't noticed her awakening, until she finally opened her tired eyes and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Morning?"

"Morning." I smiled, flashing her a grin, and when I started to pull my hand away, she groaned.

"No. Keep doing it."

I chuckled lightly under my breath and rolled onto my side, propping my elbow on the bed and relieving some of the strain on my outstretched arm.

"How was your sleep?" I asked as her eyes fluttered closed, and she grunted in response.

We seemed to be waking up a lot like this lately. It was nice.

But soon the alarm was beeping in our ears and it was time to play husband and wife.

Natasha swore under hear breath and stood up, walking tiredly to the wardrobe and pulling out several articles of clothes.

She pressed two skirts and a pair of black pants against her legs and compared them with two tops, before asking my opinion, and being the typical man I was, I chose the tight mocha pencil skirt and the blouse with the low neckline.

She nodded in agreement and silently got changed, throwing a pillow over my face before she stripped bare, and I would be lying if I said I hadn't peeked (just a little) before getting up myself and searching through the several suits that S.H.I.E.L.D had supplied.

"I love when you get dressed up," Natasha mused from the other side of the room as I got changed, and I threw her a wink before buttoning up the white undershirt and shrugging on the black dress jacked on top. She stepped forward with one of the plainly patterned ties and began to knot it around my neck because despite how skilled I was with my hands, I couldn't tie my own tie.

She grabbed some shiny black heels and hooked them on her fingers before padding her way out of the room, and I followed after her once I'd slipped on my own shoes.

She was waiting in the kitchen by the toaster, tapping her fingers impatiently, and when the toast finally popped, she grabbed out the four slices and started smothering them in butter and honey, and I flicked on the kettle as she passed me my own slices.

"Shouldn't I be the one cooking?"

"Oh well."

Coulson walked out then, baby Sarah resting her small head on his shoulder, and he really did look younger in his grey gown and matching slippers, hair uncombed and eyes still droopy for sleep.

"Do we need to go over anything?" He yawned, preparing a bottle of formula and passing me his own mug. I prepared all three of our drinks (tea for Tasha, coffee for me and Coulson) while he shook up the bottle, and when Natasha and I only grunted in response, he didn't press it further.

After we brushed our teeth and Natasha finished fixing her hair and applying her makeup, she slipped on her shoes, and we were about to walk out the front door before Coulson came rushing up behind us with a small velvet bag dangling in his hand.

"You might need these," he said, giving us both a stern look. "Good luck."

When we got into the plain grey rental car (Natasha was driving), I opened up the small bag and tipped the contents into the palm of my hand.

Two golden rings clattered into my hand, both decorated with thin, curly, delicate patterns and I wondered for a moment how S.H.I.E.L.D managed to get a hold of our finger sizes because when I slipped the larger one onto my ring finger, it fit perfectly.

Natasha frowned when she slid her own, much smaller ring onto her finger, and gave me a strange looked before starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway.

"How do you do it?" she finally spoke when we stopped at a red light.

"Do what?"

"How do you get away with touching me without me waking?"

I looked over at her. She was looking straight a head, tightly gripping the steering wheel.

"I don't know. But it's not just me; I think it's your conscience. You fell asleep knowing that you were with me and that you were safe, so your mind is telling you that it'll be exactly the same when you wake up. With me, and safe."

She finally looked at me with a genuine smile on her face, and I let out a breath of relief.

"What?"

"I thought you were mad at me." I admitted.

"No." she scoffed. "I'm more mad at myself for allowing my mind to be so at ease when, as assassins, we're always in danger."

"I suppose."

The light turned green and we were driving once again, and soon we pulled over at Edwardo's massive mansion surrounded by lavish shrubbery and tall palm trees flanking the building.

We slid out of the car, and I grabbed the single briefcase as Natasha locked the doors, and we walked up the long path leading towards the front doors.

"Don't fiddle with your ring; it's a sign showing that your not used to having it there at all."

I narrowed my eyes. "I know how to act, smarty pants."

She poked her tongue at me.

I pushed the doorbell and we waited for less then a minute before a neatly dressed man answered the door. It wasn't Edwardo, but he was expecting us and greeted us by our code names.

"Mr. and Mrs. Lasko, welcome!" he beamed, stepping aside. "Come in, come in, Edwardo has been expecting you!"

We said hello and followed the jolly man down the halls and up the stairs to the second story, and I notice Natasha giving the flight of stairs leading to the third floor a calculating look before we were ushered through another hall.

"He will call you in when he is ready," he smiled and motioned to the seats outside the office door, and we nodded in thanks and took the seats as he walked back down the hall.

.

We sat across from the criminal as he shuffled through our fake ID'S, resume's, passports and other documents S.H.I.E.L.D has mustered up for the two of us. Most of the time he would nod his head absently in approval and cock his head to the side, or he'd stroke his toothbrush moustache with his finger and glance up at us as we sat there, patiently.

Finally he leant forward and placed the papers down, leaning on his elbows and seeming to be lost in thought.

"You." He finally said in his heavily Portuguese accented tone, pointing to Natasha. "You have a small baby, yes? A little girl?"

I was the only one who knew that Natasha's smile promised death. "Yes, I do."

"How will you maintain this job with the responsibility of a young one on your hands?"

"My brother," I spoke up before Natasha could reply. "He moved over here with us, he's unemployed and is more then happy to take care of Sarah during the day."

"I see," he grunted, never taking his eyes from Natasha. "Well, if you ever need someone to look after her, I have two nannies who could babysit for you."

"Oh, that wont be necessary." Natasha replied.

Edwardo simply nodded. "You have the job, Scarlett."

Natasha's fake smile grew wider and she said her thanks, leaning forward to shake his hand.

"You start in two days, eight o'clock sharp."

When the room fell into an awkward silence, I finally raised my voice.

"What about me, sir?"

My resume's had been just as impressive as Natasha's, I'd gone through the interview as easy as pie, so why don't I have the job?

"Unfortunately," he started, regretfully tearing his eyes from my partner. "We have no available positions. I only recently hired a kitchen crew.

"Well, do you have any other available positions anywhere else?" I asked.

He thought about this for a moment, and I realized that this man wasn't interested in the full package; he just wanted Natasha.

But he finally nodded. "Actually, I do. We've been looking for a security crew for quite some time now. We have two or three positions that need taking. Are you interested?"

"Absolutely."

"Great." He clapped his hands. "And if your brother is also looking for a job, let him now, and we could consider that babysitting I suggested earlier on?"

"My brother is too lazy." I laughed, and I could basically feel the anger coming off of Natasha in waves.

"Ah, I understand." The Brazilian smiled, standing to shake my hand. "You also start in two days. I assume that you don't need training," he said, motioning to Natasha, "but do you know how to use a gun?"

"Indeed I do, sir."

Little did he know I was a master marksman who was going to throw him into prison as soon as I could?

.

The first day of 'work' was mainly a tour of the whole mansion by the friendly assistant from the day of the interview, who's name we learnt to be Bruno. He had no family and basically lives for this job, and is very enthusiastic about it.

Natasha and I memorized the whole place easily, and we were hardly unnerved by the suspicious and piercing glares that the thirty scientists would throw our way when we walked past.

The week went slow.

All I did was walk the perimeter of the mansion over one hundred times and then walk the halls even more. The other guards couldn't speak English and would snicker about me behind my back, but little did they know that I could understand Portuguese like it was my second tongue.

"_The new maid, Scarlett, is quite the looker. Even with her pale skin and red hair, she beats the other women by a long shot."_

I laughed under my breath when I heard the gang of Brazilian men gossiping about my deadly Russian partner, and just _had _to let them know that I understood every word they were saying.

"_Yeah, that's why I married her." _I replied without taking my eyes off of the television we were watching on our break. They all turned to look at me, and I simply shrugged and laughed under my breath when they all went quiet.

Natasha was _not _enjoying her side of the bargain. Turns out scientists are very unorganized human beings, and left the laboratories and bedrooms in complete havoc. Her brain was working double time, and adding to her stress was the fact that every time Edwardo made an appearance, he would 'accidentally' skim his hand over the swell of her ass or brush up against her despite having enough room to walk an elephant through.

On top of all that, the uniforms were _ridiculous._

Well, mine was okay. The typical black jacket, utility belt and boots. But Natasha looked like a stripper role-playing as a maid, with the short black and white dress, stockings and heels. She was revolted to know that a man could seriously allow his clients to dress so inappropriately, but in my personal opinion, I didn't mind it at all.

Sarah was leaving Coulson sleep-deprived. We'd shifted the cot in his room for better convenience and discovered that, after many restless nights, she was going through the 'teething' stage. When Natasha and I didn't know what that meant, he explained, and I had to stop Natasha from having a break down at the thought of Sarah being in pain.

"You went through it, I went through it, and even though I can't imagine Coulson as a baby, he went through it too. It's a stage and it's natural and it'll all be over soon."

Three weeks into the mission, we started to feel like a real family. When we got home from work at five o'clock, I would wander into the kitchen and prepare dinner, and Natasha would relieve Coulson of Sarah and bath, feed and burp her while he freshened up.

Natasha was fitting into her role as Scarlett and I was fitting into my role as Jeremy, and it was completely and utterly surreal, and the ring on my finger felt like it were to belong there for the rest of my life, and one night, when I woke up and found Natasha sitting in the rocking chair by the window, I realized that the mission was having the same effect on her, and we snuck out to the beach once again and spoke of former missions and Arrow and how we'll need to go food shopping when we got home so we could get a grasp on reality.

We hadn't heard or seen a thing about the babies.

Whatever Edwardo was doing to hide the babies, he was doing a good job of it. We felt like the mission was going downhill, until a window of opportunity arrived.

Staff and scientists were all called for a personal meeting with Edwardo, and he announced that he would be holding a formal masquerade gala in four days time in his very own mansion to celebrate his birthday. There would be over one hundred guests and Natasha and her maid colleagues were to clean the entire first floor as the reception room and in payment, would have an invitation to the event.

Unfortunately, us security guards were required _outside _of the event, and would be on high alert for the night. Which meant that Natasha and I would not be attending the event as a couple. Instead, Coulson would be making an appearance, under the request that Fury sent over a replacement agent to care for Sarah in his absence.

We had a plan forming as soon as we heard about the party.

Step one: get into the third story.

Step two: steal a loading truck, gather the babies and as many vials as possible and take them away.

Step three: Natasha and Coulson exit the gala and meet me and the babies at a safe house two miles from the mansion.

We'll organize the rest when all the heavy stuff is over and done with.

We were confident… on the outside. But I think all three of us knew that there was only a 40% chance that this would work.

Two days before the gala, we all went shopping. All of us.

Coulson refused to leave Sarah in the pram because he was afraid of someone snatching her, so I was left pushing the empty pram while the two of them picked out what they were going to wear.

Natasha chose a brilliant red gown that complimented all her curves in just the right way. It was a long sleeved, tight fitting dress that flowed down her legs. The back was completely bare, showing her horrific scar, but despite the indentations in her creamy skin, the dress wouldn't look better on a photo-shopped model. It had a slit running up the side of her leg and didn't stop until it reached her mid thigh, and the colour nearly matched the vibrant auburn of her hair.

Coulson chose a grey suit, similar to most of his other ones, but it was good to see our handler dressed like his normal, proper self.

"You look beautiful." I smiled as Natasha walked out of the change room in her glorious gown, twirling to look at every angle in the surrounding mirrors. She flashed me a grin and pulled up her red curls to get a better look at her back, and clicked her tongue in frustration as she looked at all the scars and burns that littered her flesh.

"We all have them." I said before she could complain.

"I know." And I could tell by the look in her eye that she was thinking about my scars as well as her own.

I stepped forward and ran my finger down her spine and smiled as she shivered involuntarily under my touch, before she turned around and caught my wrist in her hand and held it tight.

"Don't."

"Why?" I whispered.

"Because," she sighed, dropping my hand and turning to walk back into the change room. "You're making me tempted to kiss you."

.

_OH MY GOSH NATASHA WANTS TO KISS CLINT OMG WE'RE EXPLORING FURTHER AND FURTHER INTO THEIR RELATIONSHIP AND I'M ADDING MORE CLINTASHA MOMENTS DON'T YOU LOVE ME?_

_Sorry that the chapter isn't very detailed, I don't even know why I'm uploading this because it's past midnight and I can't think straight and I'll probably regret it in the morning but oh well._

_Anyway, the other week my mum and I were watching the Avengers (__**nobody **__knows how truly obsessed I am with it, and __**nobody **__knows I write fanfics either) and the scene where Clint and Tasha are talking after their fight comes on, and mum randomly says:_

'_They look cute together. They'd make a good couple' and I'm sitting there thinking oh yes, yes they would, mother dearest. _

_Also, if anyone else watched the MTV Movie Awards, I hope you were as excited as I was that The Avengers won every award for the category they were put in!_

_You know the drill, review my lovely readers xoxox _


	8. Change of Plans

**For those of you who don't live in the Land Down Under, ANZAC Day is perhaps one of the most important days in the Aussie and New Zealand Calender - if not,**_**the**_** most important day. It marks the day our troops arrived on the shores of Gallipoli in 1915. But it is so much more than that. It is the day that we honour all the brave men and women who have served in our armed forces, and continue to do so. As one, we mourn the losses of those who died, give thanks for those who returned home, show our support for those who continue to struggle with the memories day after day, and celebrate the freedom their sacrifices have given us. **

**Lest we forget.**

.

The drive to the gala was a very tense drive. Not because we were nervous, no, we were determined because this was the one mission that we could not afford the mess up; _no _victim can come to harms way.

Clint had already left for the gala two hours before it begun, and I was mildly disappointed that we would not be attending the party as a couple, but Coulson was good company, and he was comforting.

Agent Hill had, to our surprise, rocked up on our doorstep with a whole squad of agents behind her, claiming to have been sent by Fury to care for Sarah while we execute the mission and stand as backup in case the mission went down hill.

So nothing could go wrong, right? We'd explained our plan, and two of the agents had gone to hijack a loading truck and wait in the car park two blocks away from the mansion, ready to arrive to the scene and help load the babies and take them away to safety.

If the Council would complain about the plan, well, they could shove it where the sun doesn't shine.

We pulled up to the mansion and Coulson paid the taxi his fare, walking around the car to open my door and hold out a hand to me. I smile and took it, sliding out of the car with ease, the soft material of the dress trailing slightly behind me and swirling in the wind.

I was nearly as tall as Coulson in my heels, and despite having a revealing dress; I had numerous weapons hidden all throughout the fabric. A couple of knives, some handy guns - the usual.

I had my hair twirled into a low, elegant bun, loose curls falling from the bun and giving it a messy sort of look, which went well with the style of the dress. I wore bright red lipstick and made a sly joke about being almost the same colour as my ledger.

I handed Coulson his plain black mask before slipping on my own, gold-sequined mask, activating the comm link in the same movement as we made our way up the path and to the front doors. It seemed we were some of the last few guests arriving, and when the two bodyguards basically raked their eyes over my form, I felt like punching their lights out.

They opened the doors after checking we were on the list, and Coulson and I exchanged a curt nod before walking into the mansion.

The music could be heard from down the hall, and the laughter and chatter of dozens met our ears. At least one hundred guests were attending this birthday gala and complicated the mission somewhat.

"Hawkeye, we've entered the building."

"'_Bout time, Widow." _His voice seemed to calm my nerves down.

Coulson held out his arm for me to take, and I smiled before curling my fingers around the fabric of his suit, taking a deep breath before opening the doors leading to the huge ballroom on the first floor.

The decorations and the masks and the dresses of all shapes and colours gave the place an almost medieval atmosphere, and all the tables had been placed around the room to give space for a large dance floor where several couples were gliding across. I noticed Bruno following behind Edwardo, almost lost, his black mask slightly lopsided on his nose, but he looked just as innocent as ever.

I would be sure to get him a new job when all of this had been taken care of.

I wonder if any of these people, other then the scientists, knew there were kidnapped babies two floors above their heads?

"_You look good, Tash." _Clint muttered in my ear, and I glanced out of the window on the other side of the room, noticing Clint peeping through the glass from the outside.

"Keep your head in the game, Hawk." Coulson warned.

"_Sorry, Papa Bear."_

Some of the guests turned to ogle at me as we glided through the crowed, and I noticed Coulson glaring at any man who let their eyes linger too long on my ass, and I felt my heart swell because him and Clint were so alike in so many ways with their modesty.

"Ah, Scarlett, how wonderful to see you! You did a marvelous job at helping with the cleaning and clearing of this floor, you have served me well! This must be Jeremy's brother, I assume." Edwardo beamed at we walked over to him, his overly big, feathered mask matching the colour of his moustache.

"Hello, Edwardo. Yes, this is Clark." I smiled, watching as the two men exchanged a rather icy glare before shaking hands. "I'm glad to hear and see this has all turned out so well."

"Ah, so am I. I hope you feel welcomed."

"Of course."

As we left, Coulson continued to grow more and more tense with every step he took, and I lead us to the huge glass doors that opened to the outside gardens before asking what was up.

"I think our covers blown already." He whispered, and I heard Clint curse under his breath as he took down a guard.

"Why?"

"Did you see his date?"

I frowned a remembered the tight-lipped, American woman who had stood behind Edwardo the whole time and didn't say a word throughout the conversation.

"What about her?"

"She used to be a member of the Council."

Well, then.

"Are you sure?" I whispered, reaching up to press the button of my comm link to channel us to Hill.

"Absolutely. And I think she's telling him who we are right now."

I turned around and looked at the woman, who was staring right at Coulson while whispering in Edwardo's ear.

"Hill," I hissed into my comm. "Our covers blown. An ex-Council woman has arrived to the party – turns out she's our targets date. We need that loading truck immediately. Clint, are you in position?"

"_Nearly." _I heard him grunt before the tell-tail snap of a neck reached my ears. I rolled my eyes and turned back to Coulson.

"We need to get out of here."

I nodded to Coulson and looked around. Edwardo and his date were making their way forward, but some guests barricaded them and distracted them just long enough for me to duck behind one of the lavish curtains and begin unlocking the huge glass doors.

They were damn well secure.

"_Loading truck is two minutes from position." _I heard Hill mutter in my ear, and if I could just get this last lock undone…

"Hey, you, Clark! Where is Scarlett?" I heard Edwardo call from somewhere in the distance.

I clenched my jaw in annoyance before the lock finally unhooked, and I slid the door open just enough to slide a body through, before turning to yank Coulson behind the curtains and push him through the door. I followed, and when I looked through the glass, I noticed Edwardo had been distracted yet again; hurriedly trying to rid of the guests who wanted to bid him a happy birthday.

We started to run then, around the back walls of the mansion, noticing a tangle of legs poking out from the surrounding shrubbery and snorting under my breath at Clint's lack of hiding the evidence.

"How long do you think it'll take for them to find us?" Coulson panted from beside me, keeping up a well-paced sprint despite his age.

"They'll search the whole first floor before they even consider coming out here. If our cover is really blown, we wont have much time to load the babies onto the truck and get out of range."

We skidded to a halt when we rounded the corner and came face-to-face with a huge loading truck, with four S.H.I.E.L.D agents leaning casually against the trailer.

"Did someone order a pick up?" one of them winked, and I rolled my eyes before kicking off my shoes and shoving them in one of their hands.

"Do _not _lose them."

I climbed up the ladder and swung up onto the roof of the truck, watching Clint pull himself up to the third story balcony.

"You could have told me the truck was here!" I shouted, helping Coulson onto the roof and ripping off my mask.

Clint turned around a beamed at me, stepping forward and reaching out for me to grasp his arm. I did so and he easily lifted me onto the platform.

"Are you going to be okay with this?" he asked, pointing to the window leading to the room where all the babies were being held. I snorted.

"I haven't been cleaning this assholes house for a whole month for no reason."

I stepped forward and started pulling the window off its hinges when Clint let out an irritated huff and pulled out his pistols.

"Damn security guards…" he muttered under his breath, shooting lazily at the advancing men and taking them down.

I rolled my eyes and finally got the window off, placing the glass on the ground and popping my head through, almost gagging at the sight. The photographs couldn't even compare to the actual sight.

The room reeked of feces and several babies were in hystericals, and when I slid through the window opening and switched on the light, I felt like falling to the ground in disgust because I felt like I was back in the Red Room, viewing that girls tiny, dead body and…

"Natasha!"

His voice sounded like it was coming from miles away and I had only noticed I'd sunk to the floor when he was towering over me with a look of complete and utter concern on his face and I was finding it hard to breath and my vision was slightly blurred and all I could hear was the screams and wails of poor babies who were probably in pain and all I wanted to do right now was shoot Edwardo's brains out all over his stupid little party guests!

I closed my eyes and tried to regain control of the situation but with each breath I took the other came out harder and my heart had contracted and my pulse was thudding in my ears and everything became hot, oh so hot…

.

"_What's her name?"_

"_Natalia Romanova." _

"_What's her parents status?"_

_Ivan smiled. "Eliminated. Burnt to the ground."_

_The doctor nodded and scribbled something on his clipboard before stepping forward and tucking a loose curl behind my ear, grabbing my face in his hand and yanking it from side to side, viewing my features from all angles. I wanted to protest, I wanted to pull away, but I remembered Ivan's words from earlier on in the day and tried my hardest to stay still. _

"_One wrong move and your dead."_

_The doctors grip on my chin was beginning to hurt and I let out a sigh of relief when he roughly let go. _

"_Her features are sure to blossom well as she grows older." He mumbled under his breath, glancing at Ivan, who was nodding. _

"_Ivan?" I whispered, but when he looked at me, I coward back because his eyes were cold and icy and so unlike the friendly ones I had seen today._

_The doctor began to speak in English, and my young mind tried weakly to catch on to anything he was saying, but I couldn't make out the foreign language, so I sat silently in the hospital bed and watched as five other doctors, male and female, made their way into the room. _

_Suddenly they all stepped forward and grabbed my arms and legs, and when I started to scream, Ivan clamped his hand over my mouth and there was nothing I could do as they strapped me to the bed, the main doctor handing Ivan a gag and my struggles were futile as he covered my mouth to block out any intelligible sound I could make. _

_A nurse came in then, and she looked over at me as if I were nothing but a lab rat, holding a tray of syringes full of bright blue liquid that seemed to be almost glowing. My chest heaved with the silenced sobs and the gag was growing damper with the tears that it soaked, and I let out a muffled cry as my hospital gown was torn off my body and I was completely naked under the calculating eyes of the doctors and when I looked over at Ivan, he was smiling an evil, wicked smile and the only thing I wanted right now was my parents. _

_The main doctor grabbed a syringe with his gloved hand, tapping the thin glass and holding it in the light. _

"_This," he started in a loud voice, back to speaking in Russian so I could understand. "Is the beginning of a new era, of an advanced evolutionary program that will protect and stand for Russia. The Black Widow program will be the key to success, and it all starts now."_

_He stepped forward and I let out a helpless squeal as he positioned the syringe on the skin above my heart, the thin needle piercing the skin, a drop of blood trailing down my chest. _

_The doctor bent over so his face was only inches from mine, and his dark, almost black eyes, were so piercing, that I coward back in fear of drowning in his irises._

"_Welcome to the program," he smiled, before plunging the needle deep into my flesh, draining the blue liquid into my skin, and suddenly, my whole body was on fire._

_._

_**Clint's POV**_

"How long has she been out for?" Coulson whispered, crossing his legs beneath him and leaning against the metal wall of the truck.

"Ever since we entered the building. I think she went into shock; she kind of just fell to the floor, and she looked so lost…" I looked down at her limp form as her head lay in my lap. She had a bruise forming on her head from the fall and for once, the frown on her brow hadn't smoothed out even in her sleep.

The other agents were on the other side of the trailer, handling the babies and stacking the boxes of vials and bottles and syringes that we had stolen under the request of Fury. The babies were relatively quiet, probably because they could sense that they were in safe hands? Whatever the reason, I was grateful.

The drive was a bumpy one and since there were no seatbelts, we had to use rope to strap all the cots into place so they wouldn't slide around the place. We'd counted twenty-six babies, two of which, didn't make it.

They didn't make it.

I closed my eyes and clenched my jaw; my grip on Natasha's slack hand tightening just the slightest because how was I going to tell her those two babies didn't make it through? She would blame herself. She was _going _to blame herself.

"Do you remember, a couple of years ago, when that Council member tried to send confidential files of S.H.I.E.L.D to the CIA?" Coulson asked, and I glanced over at him, nodding.

"She was terminated and deported."

"Yeah." He sighed. "That was her. At the gala."

"And she recognized you?"

"Yeah." He laughed under his breath, knotting his hands in his lap.

"What about her?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "But… I don't think this is the end."

"Why?" I asked.

"It was too easy. Had you ever seen her before? In the mansion? Do you think she ever got a close enough look at you to recognize you as Hawkeye?"

I shook my head. "I never really paid attention to be honest, Coulson. But… now that you say that, I do think I saw her. Once. Maybe. I don't know."

Coulson pursed his lips, glancing down at Natasha's unconscious form in my arms.

"You really care about her, huh?"

I smiled. "Yeah. I do."

He was silent for a moment, and I flinched when one of the babies began to cry on the other side of the truck, the wails bouncing off the metal walls. One of the guards got up and made his way to the cot, stumbling slightly as we turned a corner, and he picked up the small baby, cradling him in his arms and whispering promises in his ears, and I realized, not for the first time, that these agents did have lives outside of work; they had children, they had a family and most of them weren't as goddamned messed up as Natasha and I.

When I looked back over to Coulson, he was staring at me. Not in the creepy way, but actually searching for… _something. _

"I'm sorry for holding you back."

"What?"

He chuckled under his breath and shook his head. "I should never have said anything about you two. I should never have interfered."

"What are you trying to say, Coulson?" I asked, my tone serious but my eyes curious.

"You know what I'm saying." He smiled, eyes looking from me, to Natasha, back to me again.

"Just don't get caught."

"I think we all have to break the rules once in a while."

"Not that often." He held up a hand, and I laughed before we came to a sudden halt and were shoved forward. Two agents fell and a couple more babies began to cry, and all I wanted was for them to be taken home, safe and sound, back to their families, and for the ones who didn't make it… well, Edwardo would pay.

Except the mission wasn't over and all those plans were thrown back because as we entered the safe house and finished bringing all the babies and cots inside, we realized that two very important human beings were missing.

Agent Hill and Sarah were nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe she went back to the other house?" I suggested, holding Natasha in my arms and close to my chest.

"No," Coulson said, walking in, and we all turned to look over at him. He was holding a single piece of paper in his hands, and us agents all looked warily at one another before I placed Natasha gently on the lounge, reaching out to take the note from Coulson's hand.

_How stupid do you think I am, to assume that I would not know that Hawkeye and the Black Widow were undercover all along, trying to spoil my plans?_

_Don't worry, your 'child' is safe. For now. Not too sure about that brunet, though. _

_Hand yourselves over or the baby dies. _

_You have until sunrise._

_-Edwardo_

.

_Am I torturing anyone with all these cliffhangers? Yes? Good._

_Guess who saw Iron Man 3 yesterday… yep, ME! And let me tell you, it was AMAZING and HILARIOUS and if you plan on seeing it, you HAVE to stay till the very end because there is a bonus scene (I'm not going to spoil it) but it was the funniest and cutest little thing ever!_

_And if you haven't checked out the new Thor trailer, well, I suggest you hop on youtube and have a look… because, on my own opinion, I think it is going to be EPIC._

_Leave a review and tell me what you think about this chapter, the Iron Man movie and the Thor trailer, I'd love to hear what you think._

_Anyway, it was ANZAC day over in Australia and I hope for those who may not be completely sure of what it is, you understand it from that brief description at the beginning. _

'_War isn't won by sentiment. It's won by soldiers.'_

_Lest we forget._


	9. Corruption

_**Clint's POV**_

The whole room was silent as the letter was passed from agent to agent, and we all took our time to completely digest the situation. We had twenty-four babies who needed medical attention and their parents, and two of the cots held unmoving bodies, too small to have ever deserved to meet that fait, which we covered with blankets so they could rest in peace.

How would their parents feel? How would _anyone _feel, knowing that two souls would never see the light of day again? Parents should never outlive their children.

Natasha finally began to stir in the brooding moment, and I silently walked over to the lounge she was resting on, kneeling down and grabbing her hand in my much larger one. I noticed in the corner of my eye that Coulson was watching my movements, and I had to remind myself that I didn't have to keep my affection at bay in front of him anymore.

She muttered unintelligibly, and I realized she was speaking in Russian as her words became clearer. Her breathing grew heavy and she started to panic, and I had to pin her body down as she began to flail around, until I called out her name and her eyes snapped open, wide with fear and pain and confusion.

"Clint?" She panted, eyes roaming over my face, my eyes, my nose, my lips; searching, examining, making sure I was real. I sighed in relief and nodded.

"Yeah. It's me." I slumped back down onto the floor next to her, reclaiming her hand.

"I… what happened?"

I swallowed. "You passed out when you saw the babies."

She slammed her eyes shut and turned her face into the cushion of the pillow. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me… but Clint… I had another dream… another memory…"

I stiffened and she opened her eyes to look at me, and I could tell by the twitch of her lips that we would talk about it later because there were other men in the room and they don't deserve to hear her story.

"It's alright." I stood up. "Their safe."

She sat up from the couch and pulled her hair out of the messy bun, letting her curls fall over her back like a red waterfall. She looked around the room, to the cots that filled every bit of spare space, eyes lingering on the two cots at the very back of the room, and I noticed her shoulders grow tense before she unpredictably pounced off the couch and rushed over to them.

I was right behind her when she pulled down the covers, revealing the pale, tiny bodies, and I was right behind her when she staggered back, hand over her mouth, and slammed into my chest. I grabbed her and spun her around, watching as her eyes crinkled at the corners, and I noticed in my peripheral vision as Coulson and the rest of the squad all filed silently out of the room.

When she started to splutter on her own words, I had to find it in myself to be harsh about the situation, no matter how much I wanted to embrace her in my arms and tell her everything was okay.

"Natasha, I need you to listen to me." I started, but she was looking straight past my shoulder, her breathing never calming down and her eyes starting to glisten in the soft light.

"Natalia!"

Finally her eyes focused on me.

"They're dead, Natasha. Nothing is going to change that. But I need you to understand that it was _not _your fault, and I need you to focus because this mission is _not _over."

When her eyebrows knitted together in confusion, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the piece of crinkled paper, handing it to her and watching her expression change from despair to anger as she scanned the written contents.

"He's got Sarah, and Hill, and if we don't hurry, they will both be dead."

She nodded and swallowed, and I finally allowed myself to take a deep breath, calm my desperation and anger and finally turn to comfort.

"We can level out when this is all over, Tasha." I whispered, bringing my hands up to her face and tilting it upwards towards my own. "Everything will be alright."

She shook her head and tore her face out of my hands, and I watched as her eyes steeled and her blank, expressionless mask fell into place. The mask that couldn't be broken; the mask she wore when she needed to let go of reality. The mask she wore when she was no longer Natasha Romanoff, or Natalia Romanova, or _Tasha._ It was the mask she wore when she was the Black Widow.

.

Once several ambulances took the babies away and Coulson had made his statement to the local police, we had one severe weight lifted from our shoulders. They were safe; they were going to return to their families.

So now, it was show time.

Natasha stripped from her glorious red gown and replaced it with her familiar black cat suit, looking fierce and determined as she loaded her guns and hid all her favourite daggers. I, too, got changed into my vest uniform, hiding my own weapons to my desire, and the two of us held a brave face as we got prepared to hand ourselves over, even though I knew the preparation was pointless. Whatever Edwardo had planned, we weren't going to make it out unscathed.

But this was Sarah and Hill. Sarah, the baby who had her life stolen from her, who had crawled her way into our hearts with her gurgling noises and sky-blue eyes, so very similar to Hill's. And we couldn't let Hill die. She was, in a way, a friend. She had defended Natasha and I in our time of need and she had our backs when we needed her most. She was a part of the team; and this time, she needed us.

So we formed a plan and Coulson wasn't too confident on our part of the deal, but didn't object to his part of the bargain. It would all work out… _someone _was going to get rescued tonight, and there was only a 40% chance that it would be all four of us.

So Natasha and I drove in silence back to the mansion. It was four hours til sunrise and the party should surely be over. Natasha's mask was still in place but I could see the cracks already starting to form.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked, breaking the silence.

She gritted her teeth. "I don't think you want to know."

"If it's bothering you, then I _need _to know."

She looked over at me, as if sizing me up. "I had a- a _flashback _of the first time they… _enhanced _me. When I was five."

I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter when she mentioned her age.

"It's over now, Tasha. They can't hurt you anymore."

"How would you know?" she snapped, and I narrowed my eyes in confusion as her next words sliced through me.

"How would you know if there still aren't people out there, ready to take me away from you? Ready to re-claim me as… as… as they're _toy! _It will _never _be over, Clint! Ever! What they did to me- it'll haunt me for the rest of my life and it's only getting worse with time because I can _remember _things that I couldn't before and-"

"Stop."

She flared her nostrils, but fell silent, and I had to take three deep breaths before continuing.

"Head in the game, Widow. This isn't the time for self-loathing and demons. We can sort it out _later._"

Would later come?

We were ten minutes away from the mansion when she spoke up once again.

"So he knew who we were the whole time?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Somehow."

"It couldn't have been the ex Council woman who blew our cover. I'd never seen her before this night. He must have already known who we were the first time her saw us. He fooled us, Clint. _We _were supposed to be fooling _him."_

"He's been involved with S.H.I.E.L.D before. He knows how to act, Tasha. Really good."

"Yeah. Something just feels out of place, though. If he knew we were there for the babies, why didn't he stock up on security? Why did he actually _hire _you as security? It doesn't make sense."

"Your right. You know, now that I think about it… I feel like the babies were just the bait… for _us."_

"Well, we'll soon find out." She sighed as we rounded another corner and saw the mansion out in the distance. It was the only house with any lights on; and there were no cars parked along the driveway. Everyone had gone home.

I parked the car and we sat in complete silence at the end of the driveway, staring at the mansion that seemed to tower ahead. There were no guards by the front door; there was not a living soul in sight.

"You know, every second we waste is the countdown for their lives." Natasha whispered, and I could tell that by the tone of her voice, she was talking more to herself.

"I know. But I need to tell you something."

She raised an eyebrow and turned to face me. "Yes?"

"All night I've been tempted to kiss you."

She smiled and shook her head, letting out a breathy laugh. "Is this payback for what I said in the change room?"

I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the door.

"Yep, pretty much." I winked before slamming it shut.

She muttered something under her breath before climbing out of the car and meeting me at the front. I braced myself as she stopped beside me, taking the last few breaths of freedom before we handed ourselves in.

"You ready?" I asked, looking down at her. Mask in place; face as blank as ever, she nodded.

"Yeah, I just gotta…" She stood up on her tiptoes and lightly brushed her smooth, full lips against my own, and it was the lightest of kisses, feather soft and only lasting nothing but a few seconds, but that didn't stop my heart from picking up it's pace and my next breath coming out a little ragged, and it was probably the best sort of lucky charm I would ever have; the feel of her lips and the smell so distinctly Natasha's, and suddenly I felt just a little bit more determined to get this mission over and done with.

She ran her finger over my lip as she pulled away, and I caught her wrist in my hand, pressing it against my chest so she could feel the way she made my heart beat, before putting our game faces back on and striding up the driveway as if that whole encounter had never happened.

We reached the front door, and we looked way too calm considering we were handing ourselves over to a mad scientist. Natasha raised her fist to the door and knocked three times, and we hardly had time to register the tranquilizers flying our way before they pierced the skin of our necks and everything went black.

.

_**Natasha's POV**_

I was the first one to wake up from the drug, and my whole body felt foreign even in my own skin. My ears were ringing and my head ached, my eyes stung even in the dim light and I could hardly move without putting as much effort and strength as I could into the action.

My breathing came out in deep, ragged breaths and I slowly turned my head to the side, finding Clint's limp body sagged to the ground with his hands tied behind his back. My hands weren't tied; so why were his?

I was also braced against the wall, yet he looked like he'd been thrown in like yesterdays garbage. I extended my arm and tried to reach for him, but I found my body sliding to the side and I slumped down, landing on his legs. I groaned and slammed my eyes shut, the sudden movement making my head swim, and when I opened them again, I noticed Hill's unconscious body, slumped against the wall on the other side of the room.

Now that I thought about it, what room was I in? I couldn't recognize the small space that had chains hanging from the roof and a two chairs leaning against another wall.

Clint started moving from beneath me, groaning slightly in his awakening. I forced myself to sit up, panting in the process, and I hadn't felt so weak since… well, since the Red Room.

Clint's eyes finally opened, and to my surprise, he sat up without a struggle. He seemed absolutely fine. He could move like normal, but he had a nasty gash on the side of his head, the blood dried up on his face as he looked around in confusion.

"Well, he got straight to the point…" he grumbled under his breath, shifting over to me. "Are you okay?"

"I…" I panted, but I couldn't finish my sentence.

"Nat, breath. It's going to be okay…"

Hill started to wake then, and we both looked over to her. She seemed to be in the same, desperate state as I was, except she had blood pooling around her that I hadn't noticed until now and she was looking oh so pale.

Before anyone could say anything else, the metal door creaked open and Edwardo walked in, four guards flanking his sides. One was carrying a tray of items that I couldn't make out.

He looked all of us square in the eye, one by one. Hill was struggling for breath and was clenching her jaw in pain, but made no noise as she slumped against the wall.

"Get him." Edwardo ordered, and two of his men stepped forward and lunged at Clint.

However, he was already on his feet by the time they reached him, and he managed to land a kick in one guards stomach and head butt the other unconscious, but the third guard quickly stepped forward and pulled out a knife from his belt, roughly shoving Clint up against the wall and holding the blade to his throat.

Clint spat in his face, but the other guard who he'd kicked in the stomach rose to his feet the seized him by his arm, using his own knife to cut the rope binding his hands together. Clint would have taken that to his advantage, he _should _have, but he noticed Edwardo standing beside me with his gun pointed right at my head.

Reluctantly, he let the guards handle him like a doll as they yanked him to the centre of the room, pulling down the chains and clasping them around his wrists. One guard then went up to the gears in the corner of the room, winding it up until Clint was dangling from the chains, the toe of his boots barely skimming the ground, and although he kept his expression blank, I could tell that the strain on his arms was bothering him.

The next thing I knew, Hill and I were being hauled up by rough arms, practically dragged to the chairs by the wall and pushed down into the seats. I heard Hill hiss in pain and looked over at her, noticing the shredded material of her cat suit, which revealed red, bloody skin surrounding a gaping wound just above her hip that was oozing with blood.

"Three years ago," Edwardo started, coming to stop in front of me with a smug smile on his face, "I was informed that one of my close colleagues facilities had been blown up, along with him in it. It was a traitorous act, one that spoiled our plans greatly. Does that ring a bell at all?"

I tried my hardest to hold my head high, but the ringing in my ears and the aching never ceased.

"As the most glorious moment of my life? Indeed it does."

"I can understand why you would say that. Ivan made you do terrible things. The hospital fire, I believe, was your last crime before you… defected."

I couldn't help my brows from knotting together in confusion.

"Oh, you don't remember, do you? It was simply tragic, I must say so myself. You killed over three hundred patients, but your main target was one of the doctors who managed to get a blood sample from another Black Widow candidate. If that blood had been tested… if they found what ran through her veins… well, the program would have gone down the drain. You had to eliminate the evidence, and you did it oh so well. You didn't even hesitate to blow the building sky high. Something your pretty good at."

I felt the blood drain from my face and my heart beat spike up, and in the corner of my eyes I could see Clint and Hill both staring at me, horrified.

"Yes, after you left Drakov's daughter as a witness in São Paulo and the punishment you received cleared your act of foolishness, you executed your missions with precision and determination. But you already knew _that _part."

"What the hell do you want from me?"

"I want you to pay for all the havoc you have caused for me. Ivan and I were on the verge of creating an evolutionary advancement, we could have changed the world, but then you and your little Hawk come in and I have to start from scratch. Those babies you stole… they were my lab rats, and after two failed attempts of enhancing their bodies, you stole them from me. So now, I have one baby left."

"Don't you dare touch her!" Hill hissed from beside me, seeming to have gained enough strength to hold herself up in the chair.

Edwardo only chuckled before he clicked his fingers and the guard carrying the tray stepped forward. He grabbed a vial of thick, white, cloudy liquid, holding it up to the light as if to check it was still there.

"This will keep you entertained until I come back," he muttered, stepping over to Clint. The other two guards came forward at that moment as well, one bending down to hold Clint's legs together and the other reaching up and prying his eyes open with his fingers. Clint didn't even flinch, even as Edwardo held the vial above his left eye and slowly, almost teasingly, tipped it downwards.

The thick liquid dripped over the edge and landed right in the centre of Clint's eye. He didn't react, however, even as Edwardo moved to his right eye and poured the second dose in. I could see from where I sat that Clint was in obvious pain, but to anyone else, he didn't even make a reaction.

Finally Edwardo stepped aside, and the guards let go of Clint's eyes and legs. Clint blinked a couple of times, and I could see his eyes becoming red-rimmed. They all filed out of the room, one guard heaving his unconscious companion behind him, and the door slammed closed and we listened to the lock click into place.

Clint didn't make a reaction until the footsteps had died down the hall. He let out a pained groan, slamming his eyes shut and shaking his head, trying to wipe the substance from his eyes using his arm beside his head.

"Fuck!" he yelled, opening his eyes and looking blindly around the room.

"Clint…" I said in a warning voice, letting my head fall forward in exhaustion. Hill did the same.

How much irony must Edwardo feel, by putting my partner in pain and leaving me incapable of helping him?

"It burns!" he yelled, unable to hold back the water flowing from his eyes.

"You gotta let it wash out, Barton." Hill said, seeming to have gained enough strength to try and stand up. She failed and let out a moan of pain, clutching her side.

"What did they do to you?" I whispered, lolling my head to the side to look at her.

"I was trying to protect Sarah when they came in," she panted, clenching her teeth. "How… how did you manage to fight even when you got stabbed? Taking down the Red Room?"

"Enhancements."

She nodded. "Guess they come in handy sometimes."

"Still wish I never had them."

I took a deep breath and braced myself before I lifted my body off the chair, standing up on wobbly legs. My head swum by the movement and I staggered forward, clutching onto Clint's shirt to stop myself from falling.

He had his head bowed, and his vest was damp from the tears of pain that were uncontrollably leaking from his eyes. He lifted his head to look at me, having to focus through the haze blocking his sight from the liquid.

"I can't see you properly." He breathed, and I dragged my hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks in my hands.

"I'm here."

He let out a breathless laugh, and I wiped the dampness from his face. "Stop holding them back, Clint."

"Why?"

"Like Hill said, you need to wash it out. Your tears will help."

He seemed uncertain at first, squinting his eyes to look at me, but he eventually nodded and took a deep breath, letting the hot, salty tears stream down his face. They were slightly discoloured from the liquid, which was good. It means it was draining out.

I sighed and stumbled back to my seat, reclaiming it for all I was worth. Whatever drug Edwardo had used on me, my enhancements weren't dealing with it very well.

After about ten minutes, Clint's eyes stopped burning as much and he said he could see a little more clearer then before. Only then did I notice that Hill was starting to nod off.

"Hill." I said in a warning voice. She didn't respond. "Hill, you need to stay focused. Don't let it take over you."

Still no response.

"Maria!" Clint barked, and her eyes flew open.

"Please tell me you guys… have a… plan." She panted; running a hand through her already messed up hair. Clint and I exchanged a short glance before nodding.

"Everything is going to be alright." I said, giving her a pointed look and hoping that she'd get the message. _What if the room was bugged?_

"Where's Sarah?" she almost cried, closing her eyes and biting down on her bottom lip.

"I don't know…"

"Focus, you two." Clint said in a warning voice. Footsteps could be heard making their way to our cell.

Clint wiped his eyes on his arm again and my blank mask was back in place. Hill took a deep, steadying breath and the door was soon swinging open once again.

The same guards were back, minus the one Clint knocked unconscious, but Edwardo was the last one to walk inside. To my shock, he was carrying Sarah in his arms and she only wore a nappy, sleeping in his arms and so unaware of the danger around her.

"I assume that you already blame yourself for the whole enhance-the-babies thing? I mean, it _is _your fault that we had to lower the age level for the program."

"The Red Room is down, Edwardo. It's over."

"No, not for me it isn't." he whispered, sounding completely crazy and obsessed with his idea of an 'evolutionary advancement.'

He handed Sarah to one of the guards, who looked completely uncoordinated as he tried to adjust her in his arms, coming to stand in front of me.

"First I'll give you another dose of the serum, you know, to get your priorities straight. You won't remember a thing of the past three years, and you'll kill these two, and we'll disappear. Sarah can be our first candidate; she'll never be free again. And Ivan's dreams will be fulfilled. The Black Widow program will be as if it was never corrupted in the first place."

"You don't have the serum." I said, trying to sound as blank as my face, but my voice wavered, and it wasn't from the drug anymore.

"Don't I?" he drawled, reaching into the pocket of his coat and bringing out a syringe full of bright blue liquid and suddenly my world was collapsing all around me.

He stepped forward and grabbed my jaw in his hand, roughly shoving my head to the side to expose my neck.

"Wait!"

Clint.

Edwardo clicked his tongue and released me, turning around to look over at Clint.

"Why do they only have to be female?"

"The name 'Black Widow' doesn't really suit men." He hissed.

"So? Change the name of the program?"

Edwardo crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes.

"Ivan only ever had one male candidate. The serum couldn't penetrate his system properly. One moment, he'd be the soldier they programmed him to be, but the next thing they knew, he was back to being the simple guy from Brooklyn. _She _would know this." He said, pointing his thumb right at me.

"What?" I whispered.

Edwardo chuckled. "_Another _thing you don't remember! Ivan really was thorough! So you don't remember the man you slept with? The man you were partnered with on numerous missions? You two were killing machines, I'll give you that much! I guess he was a liability, though. Had to much information that you couldn't know."

"Who was he?"

"Why, the one and only Winter Soldier! The man with the metal arm. Fell to his doom during the war, and the founding members of the Red Room were able to bring him into the program. He disappeared around the same time that you destroyed the facility. But enough of that; we'll have plenty of time to discuss the past once this is all over with."

He was back to me again, back to grasping my jaw in his strong hold, and I reached up, tried to pry his hand away from me, but I was too weak, I couldn't defend myself, and I could feel the panic rising within my chest and I heard Hill try to move in her chair but one of the guards stepped forward and punched her in the stomach and she heaved over in her seat, and when Clint tried to kick Edwardo away from me, one of the guards pulled out a gun and shot him.

And the only man I ever cared about was crying out in pain, and I felt the prick of the needle on my neck, and I heard Edwardo whisper something under his breath and suddenly I was back to being the frightened little girl surrounded by doctors with Ivan smiling evilly down at me as the needle pierced my skin and I felt the liquid empty into my body.

The last thing I heard was Clint calling out my name, and the last thing I saw was Edwardo falling to the ground in pain, the syringe smashing to pieces and the blue liquid seeping on the floor and Coulson was standing in the doorway, shooting at all the guards and my body started to heat up, but it wasn't as hot as usual.

.

_Longest chapter so far, guys!_

_I think I filled in each category pretty well: angst, drama, hurt/comfort, suspense, tragedy and most importantly ROMANCE!_

_But I wonder what's going to happen to Natasha? She has a bit of serum in her system?_

_And everybody loves a brave Clint who breaks. _

_And Coulson came to the rescue; gotta love that badass sonofabitch. _

_Anyway, review if you want the next chapter up faster! It's not that hard, is it? _

_P.S this chapter is probably full of mistakes but it's past midnight and I'm hungry so I don't really care xox _


	10. Jump

_Trigger warning for suicidal content. _

_**.**_

_**Clint's POV**_

Everyone saw the sadness behind her eyes despite how much she tried to hide it. The pain was raw on her face and I could tell that she, more then anything, wanted to get the hell out of this hospital and go home where everything was familiar and where she felt like she wasn't being watched with every step she took.

She'd hardly said a whole sentence to me the whole time we'd been cramped up in this hospital. Nearly two weeks, if my mind-calendar was correct, was how long we've been stuck here. My bullet wound was getting better, the stitching doing its job, and I was prescribed to some eye drops to cure the burning sensation. Hill was still hooked up to several machines from the dramatic blood loss she'd encountered. The stab wound was infected and we had feared the worse until she finally woke up.

It had been determined that Natasha had only been injected with twenty mils of the serum, not the full hundred, which, according to the doctors, was one of the luckiest things that could have occurred in the situation. After several blood tests and scans, it was confirmed that her bodily enhancements had not been reinforced and her memory was going to stay in place, but her emotions had been triggered; when she was sad, she'd feel depressed, and when she was happy, she's be ecstatic.

Can you guess which emotion was taking over?

No one could get a response out of her. She'd sit in her hospital bed, and simply stare at the wall, and it was eerie; it was like her soul had been sucked right out of her. She was lifeless, she hardly ate, and when she slept, I'd often find myself rushing to her ward and holding her head to my chest as she sobbed into my jumper, trying to muffle the sounds as to not gain any unwanted attention.

Because the Black Widow didn't cry.

Fury was, ironically, furious. He didn't make us attend the meeting with the Counsel that they had requested and the debriefing was only a short 'yes or no' type of thing. He didn't want to go into full detail with the mission when Natasha was around, and would only grab the information he needed from Coulson and I when she was absent.

The babies had returned to their parents, safe and sound with a full medical overview. None of them were harmed, but, in their time with Edwardo, hadn't received enough nutrition and vitamins, and most of them were being tube-fed to get it all back.

S.H.I.E.L.D paid for the funerals of those babies that didn't make it.

And now we were left to level out.

We weren't allowed to see Sarah again. As it turns out, she is Hill's little sister, which, in a way, explains a lot. Hill didn't want Sarah to be involved in this life and is absolutely disgusted in herself and the Counsel for forcing Sarah in the mission where she wasn't even really needed.

And even though it was all over, the mission still didn't piece together.

It started out as an undercover mission. It should have _ended _as an undercover mission, but it was all somehow connected to the Red Room. Coincidence? I think not. Any pair of agents could have completed this mission, but it just had to be _us, _and it almost felt like we were set up to fail; that Natasha was set up to be reclaimed by her past.

It was like the twenty fours babies meant nothing and the two that died meant even less.

The ex-Council woman didn't fit in either, so this was definitely a conversation to pick up with Fury once I had the chance.

We were finally allowed to go home, so once I'd freshened up (as much as you could in this damned hell hole) I went to fetch Natasha. She had drawn the curtains to her room and it was almost pitch black when I walked in, so I took the liberty to flick on the lights.

She was curled onto her side, knuckles bone white as she clenched the pillow in her fists, and that damn frown was still deep in her brow despite being unconscious. I sighed; it really was a painful thing to see, before silently closing the door behind me and walking over to her bed.

She was awake, obviously. You couldn't flick on the fluorescent lights without waking up Natasha Romanoff, but she didn't open her eyes until I placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.

"Hey," I tried to smile, but it turned onto more of a grimace instead.

"Hey." She croaked, her voice cracking from lack of use, but she mustn't be planning on saying anything else because she didn't bother clearing her throat as she sat up.

"Time to go home. Going to make a detour to the Sniffer Dog Department, though. We _do _have a dog." I winked, but she only nodded in response.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and straightened up the striped white and blue pajama's the nurses had supplied for her. She looked ever so young in such a childish pair of clothes, with her red hair tousled and her make-up free face. That image was soon distorted when she pulled on her chunky boots and a S.H.I.E.L.D issued jacket, but I guess it was still cute. For Natasha, anyway.

I picked up her duffle bag, which held her uniform and several weapons in it, and she gave me a quizzical look but didn't say anything. Of course. Truth was, she looked too damn frail to put any extra weight on her shoulders, and I knew it was a stupid thing to think because this was _Natasha _and she could handle anything, but sometimes it's nice to pretend.

She walked beside me, much closer then she usually would in public, but I just assumed she was feeling lazy. When we reached the Sniffer Dog Compartment and grabbed Arrow from his kennel, he basically bound our way and nearly knocked me off my feet. Natasha's lips did pull up into a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. She bent down and clipped on his leash, leading Arrow down the halls as we made our way to the car park.

We drove in silence and I wound the window down for Arrow to enjoy the breeze with his head halfway out the frame. Natasha curled herself in the passenger seat and stared blankly out the window, and I couldn't take the silence any more.

"How are you feeling?"

She snorted without humor. "Low."

I nodded and pursed my lips. "But do you… _feel _different?"

She turned her head to look over at me, her eyebrow arched. "As in?"

"From the serum."

"No. Never do. But right now I'm trapped in my own mind. Lies and deception. Is there any good purpose in my life?"

"Don't speak like that, Tasha. You know there is."

"Well, I'm finding that pretty hard to believe."

I didn't reply as we pulled into the small parking lot, and I let Arrow jump from the car and do his business over by a bush before helping Natasha out of the car. She didn't need the help, but let me do it anyway. We walked up the stairs, bumping into the neighboring apartment owners, who raised eyebrows as we passed by. I wouldn't blame them. We've been gone for nearly two months, my shoulder was bandaged and we had, what, two bags?

Strange couple.

We basically stumbled through the door; more then eager to be surrounded by the familiarity we'd grown so accustomed to. Everything was just as we left it, slightly messy, but perfect in its own little way. I raided the fridge for anything edible, but the fruit was soggy and the cheese was smelly and I wasn't in the mood for pre-made meals, and at the moment I was, for some reason, really craving chicken soup. It was the appropriate weather and I hadn't cooked Natasha and I our own special little meal in a long time, so why not do it now? It might even cheer her up a bit.

"Hey, Tash?" I called, but she didn't reply. I frowned the closed the fridge, wandering down the hall. The bathroom door was closed, but the light was on, and I knocked on the door before letting myself in when she didn't reply.

She was leaning against the sink, hair pulled into a messy ponytail. She was staring at herself in the mirror, but it wasn't a 'I'm so hot' stare. It was more of a 'who am I?" stare, and the regret I felt for the entire mission continued to crash down onto my like waves.

I sighed and walked into the bathroom, grasping her gently by the shoulders and turning her away from the mirror so she was facing me. She averted her eyes until I cupped her face in my large hands, and I was almost frightened by how dull her green eyes were.

"Are you hungry?" I whispered, and I almost expected her to say no, but instead, she nodded.

I smiled and pulled her into a hug, because everyone deserves an embrace when they're down. We had three weeks to level out, three weeks to get back on track and get rid of the nightmares that were haunting Natasha, and it all started now.

"I'm going to go down to the shops," I murmured against her hair. It didn't smell like her; it smelt like the sterile stench of hospital, and she must have noticed the way I didn't breath her scent in like usual because she pulled away and nodded.

"I'm going to have a shower."

I smiled, because she was talking a lot more now, which was good. I let her go and whistled for Arrow, who came bounding to me happily. Once I shrugged on a jacket and clipped on his leash once more, I left the apartment and headed to the corner shop just down the road.

.

_**Natasha's POV**_

The shower did little to calm my nerves and by the time I stepped out of the steaming bathroom, it was raining outside. The perfect weather to match my mood.

My whole head was spinning like an emotional hurricane. I couldn't keep my train of thought without it resulting in a small voice in my head telling me I don't deserve happiness or I should be dead.

And sadly, it was all true.

Despite how relieved I was to finally be welcomed home with all its familiarity and comfort, it didn't last long, and I soon found myself pacing the hallway, biting my nails, running a hand through my hair, tapping my foot; anything to keep my body moving, to keep my mind away from the dreadful voices that deafened all other thoughts.

The place was too crowded, but it was missing its most important feature: Clint.

So I slipped one of his shirts over my singlet, not bothering to put any pants on because they were so overrated. I didn't know where I was going until I found myself picking the lock that lead to the roof, and considered turning back because it was raining and I just had a shower, but continued up the small flight of stairs anyway until I could feel the droplets of rain pelting down onto my entire body, and I soon found myself completely soaked.

Then my emotions were crashing down all around me and I was lost in my own mind. Shame, self-disgust, hatred – and they were all aimed at myself.

_What am I doing here? _I wondered.

_You're going to jump. _The small voice in the back of my head replied.

_But then I'll die. _I stated.

_That's the point. _

I frowned and walked over to the ledge of the roof, looking down at the hypnotizing traffic that never ends.

_Those cars look pretty dangerous. Why don't you go step in front of one? _The voice taunted. Maybe I should.

I sighed and sat down on the ledge, swinging my legs over the edge so if I were to push myself off, I would plummet to my death.

_Get your head together, Romanoff. Look at you, you're pathetic. Sitting on the edge of a building, wondering what it would be like to die? _I thought to myself.

_Don't wonder; let it happen. _

_SHUT UP!_

I growled and slammed my hands over my ears, and I knew it was a futile way to drain out the voices because they were inside my head, but it seemed like the only thing I could do right now.

_You can't get rid of me. _The voice taunted. _Not until you jump. Not until you take the leap. How much pain have you caused all around the world? Think of all the innocent people. Think of the babies. If you would have been quicker, they could have lived. Your ledger will always be red and there is no way to wipe it out. Your useless, your pathetic, your nothing but a demon sent to destroy the happiness of those around you. Wherever you go, something bad always happens. _

_You can stop the pain, though. _

_You can end it. _

_You can jump. _

_._

_**Clint's POV**_

I was just about to pay for all my groceries when a particular bark caught my attention.

I looked outside and saw Arrow franticly trying to tug away from his leash, which was tied to a pole. He was panicking, he was causing a scene, and whatever he was barking at, it caught the attention of other people, too.

Despite the fact that it was raining, people stopped in their tracks to turn and look at what my dog was barking at. A certain tightness started to swell in my chest and I almost found it hard to breath, because what if-

"I'm sorry, I have to go." I whispered to the girl who had just finished bagging my shopping. She looked perplexed, but I ignored her as I jogged out of the small shop and raced to the scene.

Arrow leapt up at the sight of me and barked even louder, and when I noticed what everyone was pointing at, I almost felt like my whole world was shattering around me.

On the end of the street on the tattered looking apartment block was a red-haired, pale girl swinging her legs dauntingly over the edge of the roof.

"No." I whispered under my breath. The whole crowd gasped and cried out when Natasha stood up from the ledge, pacing back and forth without even looking at her feet. She could fall at any moment. She could jump at any moment.

I bent down and unclipped Arrows leash from his collar, leaving it tied to the pole as he darted down the path. I was following straight away, and people stood against the buildings and moved out of the way for the dog and his owner.

I wasn't going to make it.

She was going to jump.

I could feel the panic starting to rise in my chest because Natasha could _not _leave me on this world by myself.

My whole body felt numb but I had to push it forward, I had to keep moving. My pulse was drumming in my ears and a lump was starting to rise in my throat.

Arrow ran across the road and caused a whole bunch of cars to stop in their tracks and honk, and I quickly followed his lead before they revved their engines once again. The building seemed so far away… I wasn't going to make it…

I crashed through the door and followed Arrow up the stairs, pushing myself three at a time. It felt like an eternity had passed by the time I reached the small stairwell leading to the roof, but I finally made it, _we _finally made it.

Natasha mustn't have seen us running after her, or she either didn't care, because as soon as I caught sight of her on the roof, as soon as I started running towards her, she jumped.

She jumped.

But I pushed myself further and I extended my arms and by some miracle, by some twisted way of fait, my hands caught her waist and I yanked her backwards with all my strength and all I was worth, and soon we were tumbling backwards, landing hard on the cement, knocking the air out of our lungs and I didn't realize I was crying until a sob wracked through my body as I kneeled over Natasha and watched her face crumple into pain and despair.

"What are you _doing?!" _she shrieked, slamming her fists into my chest, trying to push me off, but I wouldn't budge, and when she saw the tears falling from my eyes, it only made her struggling increase.

"Don't cry, Clint! Don't let me cause any more pain! Let me go! Let me jump! I want to die; I don't want to be here anymore! Let. Me. Go!"

"Shut the _fuck _up, Natalia!" I shouted, inches from her face, trying to breath but my throat was so tight that it was almost painful.

Arrow whimpered somewhere to my right and in the distance I could hear the crowd clapping, but none of that meant anything because my fucking partner just tried to kill herself!

She stopped struggling and soon bought her hands up to her face, sobs wracking through her body as she cried, whimpered and moaned into her palms, and I stood up, only now feeling the pain in my shoulder burn and I assumed I had torn the stitching, but I would lose a limb for this woman, so I didn't really care.

I bent down and I scooped her into my arms, letting the rain wash away my tears and letting her cry and cry and cry.

Arrow followed from behind and I was so, _so _thankful that this animal had made his way into my life because if it weren't for him, I would have came home only to find my partner splattered on the road.

I was so angry, and confused, and upset, and I felt like the worst partner in the world because I couldn't chase her nightmares away and I couldn't keep her past at bay.

I felt physically sick, and I kicked open our door, not bothering to close it behind me as I walked into my room, gently laying Natasha down onto the bed. I tried to breath, but my whole body quaked with the movement. I grabbed the hem to the shirt and tugged it over her head as she continued to cry, and I grabbed the blankets and wrapped it around her soaking body. I held her close to my chest as our tears continued to fall, and the sky grew darker and our bodies grew colder from the wetness.

"Natasha…" I finally breathed, rocking her gently in my arms and burying my face in the crook of her neck. "What were you thinking?"

.

_Hm. _

_It's only a short chapter, but I hope it touches you all. _

_Review? Please? _


	11. I Can Make it Go Away

_**Clint's POV**_

When I woke up, Natasha was gone.

She'd untangled herself from the blankets and shifted out of my arms, leaving me in a damp, fully clothed mess on the bed with a tear stained face and big, swollen eyes.

I shot up instantly, rubbing my eyes as I stumbled out of my bedroom. It was still dark outside, but the sun was just starting to rise, illuminating the dark sky with a blue glow and giving the apartment just enough light to be able to see where I was going.

Arrow's ears twitched as I rushed into the living area. He was sprawled out on the lounge, his big brown eyes looking rather sad. It was only then that I realized the bathroom door was closed but had light spilling from the cracks, and I felt my heart swell (not in a good way) because what would I find when I walked inside?

I pressed my ear to the door; I couldn't hear anything, and I took a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever I might see. I slowly opened the door and poked my head around, my face being met with a wave of heated steam. The whole bathroom was full with heavy white steam and the window and mirror were completely fogged. I glanced down to the bath, and I could see Natasha was submerged in the bubbles, and I felt my body un-tense because there was no blood and her head wasn't under the water and when she noticed me come it, she moved, which meant she was positively alive and breathing.

I knew I should have excused myself for intruding; she was just having a bath. But something about seeing her alive and breathing and trying to relax despite the situation that had occurred mere hours ago was somewhat comforting, and instead of apologizing and leaving, I stepped inside the bathroom and closed the door behind me.

I turned on the exhaust fan so the steam would clear up, and I only now realized just how cold I was from falling asleep with damp clothes in this weather. Natasha simply stared at me as I knelt down, leaning my forearms against the porcelain tub and making eye contact with her.

Her eyes were swollen, much like mine, from crying, and her nose was slightly red. She eventually turned away from me and sunk lower into the tub until the bubbles were covering her collarbones, and I sighed and stood up again, walking over to the sink and rubbing the mirror to clear a patch so I could brush my teeth.

When I was finished, I wiped my mouth with a face cloth and was about to turn and leave, but I heard Natasha move in the water and I turned around immediately. She had angled herself so she was resting on her side, her arms supporting her head as they rested on the edge of the tub.

"Will you join me?" she said, barely above a whisper. Her voice was so pained and it cracked from lack of use but I nodded anyway and turned around again.

I stripped from my clothes, unabashed of my nakedness because we've seen enough of each other from past missions. She drew her knees to her chest and made room for me, and I stepped into the luxuriously warm water, sitting down and letting the bubbles hide my body from view. I stretched my legs out, and it was a bit of a tight squeeze because this bath wasn't overly large, but we adjusted easily in the head-to-toe position, with one of Natasha's legs hitched on top of my own and the other laying on the bath floor.

I ran a hand through my hair and splashed the hot water over my face, letting the warmth relax my muscles. I glanced up at Natasha; she was rubbing some body wash over her arms.

"Need some help?" I offered, and she raised an eyebrow before shifting her position until she was sitting up with her back to me. I grabbed the wash sponge and applied another blob of soap, rubbing the material between my fingers so it would foam up before scrubbing up and down Natasha's curved spine. I deliberately let my fingers lightly trace every scar in sight, and I could feel her tense a little under the touch before I reached around her waist and started scrubbing her front.

Her stomach, her shoulders, her chest, her breasts, her thighs and her legs; I was very thorough, and I could basically feel her melt against me as I cleansed the more sensitive area's of her body. And she didn't stop me.

Then it was her turn, and she got up onto her knees behind my back, and I could feel the warmth of her body radiate to my own as she started to rub the foamy soap into my skin. She teased and she traced much like I did, and I had to close my eyes and breath heavily through my nose to stop and irrational thoughts from intruding my mind.

Eventually the water started to cool and the bubbles started to pop and the steam in the air had grown much too thin and we decided it was time to pull the plug. I got out first, drying myself off and wrapping my towel around my waist before holding out Natasha's towel and welcoming her in my arms, drying her thoroughly and leaving no trace of water on her perfectly curved body.

She turned in my arms then, and I wrapped the towel firmly around her body as she rested her forehead on my chest.

"I'm so sorry." She breathed, shaking her head more to herself then anyone else.

I knew I shouldn't have pushed the subject further; her suicidal attempt was nothing she wanted to talk about, but I needed to know.

"What pushed you that far?"

I heard her swallow and let out a shaky breath. "I need to clear my ledger some how…"

I clenched my jaw and grabbed her shoulders, pushing her back slightly so I could look her in the eye, my anger suddenly flaring ten fold.

"That's it? Your fucking _ledger? _Do you not realize that the day you changed sides, the day that you told me you wanted to join S.H.I.E.L.D, your ledger has been slowly but progressively wiped with every single good deed, with every kill that ensured safety and bought more peace to the world? Do you not realize that there are people out there who _need _you? Did you even consider me, Natasha? Hm?!"

I didn't realize how loud my voice had gotten and I found myself panting with anger, my grip so tight on Natasha's shoulders that I would probably leave a bruise. She turned her head to the side, as if she couldn't bear to look at me, but I didn't regret a thing I said.

"Tell me how stupid I am…"

I felt my eyebrows knot together in confusion, but complied anyway.

"You are an _idiot _Natasha Romanoff! A stupid, reckless, selfish idiot!"

She closed her eyes at my biting words, but didn't ask me to stop.

"Who does that? Who builds up so much trust with a person – only for it to vanish? This morning, before this bath, I thought you were fucking dead! I didn't know what to expect! Did she frown herself? Did she slice her body open and let her blood mingle with the water until there was nothing left?"

She winced then, and I could see her hands close into fists by her side. She was getting angry. She was fuming.

"Don't you feel like a coward? Trying to get the 'easy way out'? You've lived through more pain and torture and mindfuck then anyone else on this planet – and you were just about to throw all that determination and strength away?"

Her eyes snapped open and she shoved me backwards, pushed me until my spine made harsh contact with the bathroom wall and her nails were digging painfully into my biceps, deep enough to draw blood.

"The only reason your alive right now is because of a fucking _dog!"_

That was it. She had it, she broke, and she crumpled to the ground by my feet. She didn't sob, but she let the tears leak from her eyes, repeatedly chanting 'I know, I know' into her hands. I regained control of my anger and calmed myself down enough to bend down and pull her to her feet.

"I can make you happy, Tasha." I whispered, cupping her face in my hand and wiping away the tears with my thumb. "I can make the pain go away."

"How?"

"Just let me make you forget…"

She looked up at me, her lashes wet and her cheeks damp. It was only subtle, but I could feel her nod in my hand, and I slowly inched closer to her face, our noses brushing ever so lightly before out lips connected, and I was sure to pour every ounce of passion and admiration and adoration into the kiss, I made sure she felt secure and alive and cared about because that is _exactly what she needed. _

She seemed hesitant as first, but soon our lips were moving as one. Her full lips filled every gap, molded with my own. Her saliva was like honey and the warmth of her mouth over mine almost scorched my tongue. I cupped her face in my hands like she was the most fragile piece of china, and one wrong move would shatter her to pieces, until oxygen was becoming a necessity and we parted, breathing heavily and I could feel that my nose was slightly wet from the extra tears that had fallen from her eyes.

"You promise you can make it all go away?" she whispered, brushing her thumb over my chin, which was scratchy with the day old stubble that she told me on numerous occasions that she liked.

"Yes."

"Just this once?"

I swallowed because I knew the next words were lies. "Just this once."

And then it was _her _who was igniting the kiss, and this time is was different. It wasn't slow and it wasn't passionate; it was hot and desperate and I felt like I could never get enough of this beautiful woman as she pressed herself against my body and slid her tongue between my lips. Suddenly the bathroom was much too hot, and I pushed away from the wall, grasping her hips as I lead us blindly out of the bathroom, down the hall and into my bedroom, closing the door behind us and discarding both our towels without much notice.

.

_**Natasha's POV**_

Clint kept to his word. He took away the pain. The voices in my head ceased their constant put-downs when our lips made contact, and it was like he was my cure; he chased away the nightmares and he kept the voices at bay and never in my life had I felt so vulnerable under a mans touch.

I couldn't count the times I'd had to take a stranger to bed for a mission, and most of the time, even in my younger, undeveloped years, I was always in charge. I set the boundaries and I took control. When the… rape occurred, well, what was I supposed to do? One wrong move and I was dead.

But Clint… he made me feel like I was pure, like I was a – in a rational way – still a virgin. His touch was so gentle for such a strong man. His fingers were like feathers as they skimmed my skin and his kisses were scorching promises to keep me safe. When he bit down onto my flesh, it wasn't vicious or desperate, it was out of passion and lust, and I almost _wanted _him to leave a mark, a bruise to claim his possession on my pale neck.

The sex wasn't rushed, in fact, it was slow. He drew it out perfectly, he kept me on edge but bought me right back down before I could explode. All the self control he'd mustered in his skill set as a marksman seemed to rub off on his intimate acts, and he left me always wanting more, _needing _more, until I was whimpering, gasping his name and scraping my nails down his strong back, leaving bloody trails. His breathing was heavy and his pupil dilated, and I almost had to look away from his stormy eyes because the fondness and care was just so raw.

We shifted several times, until it was me sitting in his lap, rocking on top of him, slowly, drawing out the sweet sensation from inside. He filled me completely and hit every right spot, his full length accommodating with my centre almost perfectly, as if we were made for each other, and with a final ground and one last thrust, we came together, our voices muffled from a kiss and our bodies quaking with the sensation that rocketed through our insides. I called his name and he called mine, and when we fell to the pillows in a tangle of limbs, I felt like and entire weight had been lifted from my shoulders and right now, nothing could ruin this perfect moment.

He _was_ perfect; he was my anchor, my safe haven. He protected me from myself and I made a vowl to never bring pain to this mans life again because, at the end of the day, we lived for each other, and who cares if we were a compromised case? if anyone were to take a look into our minds, they would understand why.

Because how can you back down from passion?

The voices stayed away and I rested my head on Clint's chest, listening to his fast, erratic heartbeat slowly calm to a normal pace, and I fell asleep with my fingers pressed to the pulse on his neck and when I woke up, sunlight had finally broken through the curtains and he was tracing circles on my naked back.

.

_**Winter's POV**_

_There was a rapid knock on my dormitory door, and I remember wondering if I was supposed to be anywhere or if I was being punished for some foolish act I must have done. _

_I stood up, throwing a shirt over my bare chest and cautiously opening the door. It wasn't a guard or Ivan or anyone of powerful importance; it was Natalia._

_She looked so young and petite in her white gown and downcast eyes, and if I were anyone else, she would have her head held high and her blank mask right in place, but sometimes even the strongest of spies have their days – or in this case, nights. _

_Without a word, I opened the door wider and let her walk in. I poked my head around the corner to check if anyone was down the hall or lurking in the shadows, and when the coast was clear, I closed and locked the door. _

"_You know it's dangerous to be wandering the halls at this time of night."_

_I turned around, and I wasn't all too surprised when I saw her naked body standing in the centre of the room, her white gown in a pool by her feet. She stepped forward, tucking a curl behind her ear, before speaking. _

"_Ivan touched me."_

_I gritted my teeth but made now outward reaction, and she must have been expecting that, because she just kept staring. _

"_That's nothing new; you've had plenty of men touch you before."_

_She cocked her head to the side, "Yes, but that doesn't mean I enjoy it. I… I only like it when you touch me."_

_I sighed and shook my head, stepping forward and grabbing her hand, leading her to my bed and sitting her down, pulling the blankets over her shoulders. She'd developed well over the years, her curves becoming an attraction and her striking feature leaving any man in a dizzy state. She was only seventeen, but she looked much, much older. _

"_There is no difference between me and any other man."_

"_Lies." She hissed, narrowing her eyes. "You told me yourself that when I sleep with another man, there is no personal attraction, no lust; I'm simply giving myself to him. You told me that when I'm with you, we're making love."_

"_That was a long time ago." I tried to reason. _

"_You still said it!"_

_I hushed her and pressed my fingers to her lips, and her eyes fluttered closed. _

"_Wont the other girls wonder where you are?"_

"_No." She shrugged. "And I don't care."_

"_You shouldn't be so reckless." I shook my head, running a hand down her back. _

"_I think they all have something on their minds – Ivan announced something about an arena that would be complete within a couple of months. We're all trying to figure out what it is for." She glanced up at me, "Do you know?"_

"_Of course not," I lied, pushing her down onto the bed and crawling over her body. She gripped my strong biotic are and ran her fingers over the smooth metal, and when most people shied away from the silver limb, she seemed rather fond of it. _

"_I just need you to take him off my mind." She whispered, closing her eyes as I started to kiss soft trails down her neck. "Ivan is very rough; he doesn't care of my needs, only his own… but you…"_

"_Shh," I breathed against the hollow of her neck, letting my hand trail between the cavity of her breasts and down the hard planes of her stomach, coming to rest on her hips and skim the sensitive flesh between her thighs. _

_I heard her breath quicken, and she bought her hand away from my arm and down to the hem of my shirt, tugging on the material until I straightened up and basically tore the fabric from my body, tossing it to the floor to rest with her own white gown. _

_I knew this needed to stop, that I was strictly her teacher and fraternizing with the students could be the death of me… but something about Natalia was oh so alluring, and behind the strong mask and emotionless eyes, there really was just a curious girl who is looking for love. _

_But love is for children, and these were just games. _

_Try convincing yourself that while having sex with the woman who distorted that statement. _

_._

I woke up in an instant, and by the way my throat felt rather dry and scratchy, I knew I had been yelling in my sleep. My neighbours probably wouldn't be too fond of the nightly outbursts, but I couldn't care less.

I growled and pushed myself out of the bed, walking over to the window and looking out at the city that never sleeps. The sun was just starting to rise, and I knew it would be time to go down to the park again, to try and bump into _her… _to try and get a glimpse of her face or hear her husky voice, but I hadn't seen her in such a long time and I wondered if she was even still alive with her stupid _partner. _

_._

_THEY DID IT! THEY LITERALLY **DID **__**IT! **__FINALLY THEY HAVE COME TOGETHER AS ONE… IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN ;)_

_And we got a look into the Winter Soldiers mind… he still misses Natasha… aww I feel bad :( _

_If you want an update to see the – ahem – aftermath, I suggest you review fast because I'm losing motivation, readers!_


	12. Scars

Coulson saw an immediate change between Natasha and I when he came over to visit the following night. As soon as he walked through the door, he looked rather overwhelmed and raised a curious eyebrow my way. He knew what we got up to this morning, and the thing was, Natasha and I were no where near each other when he walked in. she was slumped on the lounge and I was making coffee in the kitchen, so how on earth did our handler know already?

It was nothing to be embarrassed about; Coulson had assumed we'd been sleeping together for almost three years now, and _that's _why he insisted I backed off from her. Whatever changed his mind was good enough for me because I felt no amount of guilt what's so ever.

He came with an important update on S.H.I.E.L.D.S science department, and told us of an elixir that we had stolen from Edwardo that could permanently erase any scar on the human body. He guaranteed us that it was safe and had been tested on numerous of times, and Natasha seemed quite hesitant to take the small bottle from him at first, but did so anyway because everyone could use a few less scars, right?

So that night we wandered into the bathroom, and Natasha pulled off my shirt, running her fingers over the love kisses that littered my neck and chest with a desirable burn in her eyes. She grabbed the small bottle and tipped the dark blue liquid onto a cotton wool ball, and I nodded down at her when she questions me with her eyes.

She pursed her lips as she dabbed the cool liquid on the biggest scar on my chest, lathering the white line in the dark liquid. My skin tingled and pricked as it soaked up the blue elixir and when Natasha wiped the remaining stain away from my chest with a wet cloth, there was no scar left in its place; just clean, unmarked flesh that looked like it had never been wounded in the first place.

I then turned her around and we swapped places, and she let me tug her own singlet off her body without a word. She braced herself against the sink and watched in the reflection as I unhooked her bra with steady fingers, completely revealing the huge, jagged, dotted scar that distorted the entire curve of her back.

Goosebumps rose on her skin when I smothered it in the blue liquid, and I watched her through the mirror as she frowned.

"It's like it never happened," I whispered, referring to the torturous wound that was now disappearing before my eyes.

"It did." She countered, raising her head to look at me. "But there is no more evidence."

I wiped away the remaining liquid and watched Natasha turn around to look at her back. A small smile tugged at her lips, and sure, there were still plenty of smaller scars littered all over our bodies, but the most painful ones were gone, and for now, that's all we really needed.

I led Natasha to my bedroom without another word, and we slid under the covers and molded into each other's arms instinctively. We didn't kiss and we didn't fool around, we just enjoyed each other's company.

She was the first to talk, asking me where the scar that she had wiped away first came from.

I didn't want to tell her, but she deserved to know, because despite the horrors of her past, she was always ready to tell me more, to share her stories so I understood why she was the person she was today. So she deserved just as much, and I told her the truth.

"When I was a boy, living in the orphanage, my caretaker pushed me through a window and left me to bleed to death in the snow. The glass narrowly missed my heart, and I would have died if it weren't for my brother. He found me, and he dragged my sorry ass all the way to the hospital miles from our home. He caught a cold and I left a bloody trail the entire way, but I made it through thanks to him."

She was silent for a long moment, running her finger over the smooth flesh on my chest where the scar used to be.

"It's quite devastating." She finally whispered, and I watched as Arrow trotted into the room and jumped onto the bed, making himself comfortable in the tangle of our legs and closing his eyes. "You and your brother were so close; you relied on each other. And then fame and fortune corrupted his mind, and it was like you never meant a thing to him."

I could feel the lump rising in my throat because my brother was a very sensitive topic for me to talk about, and everything Natasha had just said was completely true.

"I still believe he's alive. Somewhere out there. Surely him and Trickshot wouldn't return to the carnival after stealing all their funds? Hey, maybe they are even to blame for the train running off the tracks in the first place."

"Do you want to find out?"

I shook my head. "They don't deserve to be apart of my new life anymore." I whispered, and I felt Natasha tighten her hold around my waist a little more.

"What about you," I said, raking my fingers through her long, red curls. "Do you think the Winter Soldier is still out there?"

"Of course," she sighed. "I can feel it, y'know? And it scares me. But I'm curious; what's he doing with his life now that his leaders have been killed? Where is he? _Who _is he? Will we ever meet again?"

"Do you want to?"

"No." she murmured. "I can't remember a thing about him, but I have dreams. And they frighten me, because, what if he was just like you? My partner, another lost soul searching for its match… and that match would be me. What would happen? I just wish I could remember."

"One day you might."

We fell asleep after that, and we didn't have sex, but Natasha clung to my body and I knew she was having another nightmare. She called out my name several times and whimpered like a lost little girl, but in the morning, she said nothing of it, and when we sat down to have breakfast, she pulled out my laptop and started typing away with her coffee mug held close to her chest.

She went to the bathroom after a while, and curiosity got the best of me, and when I opened up the history to see what she had been browsing, there were several news article reports on one particular event.

'Hospital Fires.'

And I realized then that Natasha was still bothered by everything Edwardo said, and ever more by the fact that she couldn't remember a thing. I closed the search window when I heard the toilet flush and acted completely normal as she walked back in and continued her searching.

I knew then that no matter what, Natasha would never be complete until she knew every detail of her past, and I messaged Coulson on my phone asking if there was any possible way to restore her memory for good.

He replied with yes.

.

_I know it's a short chapter, and I know I took a long time to update, but that goddamned writers block is back again, and I wrote several chapters, just like last time, but none of them seemed to fit the flow of the story._

_Leave a review, tell me what you think!_


	13. PLAGIARISM

Hi all! Sorry for the delay and sorry for getting your hopes up because this is not an update.

To my utter disgust, I Kill Men Like You and Deceitful Love have both been ruthlessly plagiarised.

The author, who writes on the website _Miss Literati _is known as Uniquestar12 and has not only plagiarised my stories, but 50+ other stories stolen from fanfiction, too. There have been dozens of complaints on their profile and I have sent an e-mail to the website itself, and hopefully something is done about all the copying because it has made me _extremely _mad to know that someone is stealing my work and claiming it as their own.

For your own caution, I suggest you look on the profile and check to see that none of your stories have been stolen too.

It would mean a lot if any one of yous could take your time to report the user for stealing mine and other author's stories, and hopefully have their profile removed for good.

Thanks to all who have stuck by me and I promise an update will appear during the week!

Sincerely, Chloe (yes, that's my real name!) :)


	14. Burning Flesh

_Guess who's got good news? Me! _

_I e-mailed the Miss Literati website and they replied telling me they'll look into the plagiarism when the holiday weekend is over (I don't know what that is…) but I looked on Uniquestar12's profile today and the whole account is GONE, is DELETED and VANISHED! So I got my story back :') _

_._

I guess one could say that my bed had grown cold and stale from lack of use over the months, the blankets collecting dust and just waiting to be used. I'd shifted all my clothes into Clint' small, overcrowded bedroom but it was good enough for us and we didn't mind the cramped space because that just gave us an excuse to be close, right?

Right now, it was drizzling outside and the rain was tapping on the window like little fingers on the glass. It was late in the morning and Clint was still asleep, so I lay beside him and listened to his calm, even breathing and matched it with my own.

He woke up eventually, and I knew he'd had a good sleep because his eyes were glassy and clear; the only time you could see the green specs in his blue, stormy, triad coloured eyes. It was nice, because as assassins, we never really got good sleeps, and it was rare to see every defined detail in his irises.

He reached up and stroked my cheek, as if to make sure I was really there, before dropping his hand on the mattress again. It wasn't an intimate gesture, just something he'd grown accustomed to doing ever since we got back from the mission that caused so many breakable bonds between the two of us.

"I think we should go for a jog later on today." He finally spoke after a moment of silence. "We haven't been active in almost a week."

I smiled and nodded, running a hand over my face and rubbing my crusty eyes.

There was a scratch at the door and Clint and I groaned in sync. Sometimes it was frustrating owning a large dog in a small apartment, with the responsibility of taking him out to do his business whenever necessary. Clint looked back at me and we had a momentary war with our eyes.

"Your turn." He said, raising an eyebrow.

"Nah," I shook my head, lifting the blanket and revealing the small articles of clothing covering my body, "I'm not dressed enough for the public eye."

"Fine." He sighed, sitting up and leaning over to plant a kiss on my lips.

Well, he might have achieved, but I slapped my hand right over his lips before they made contact my own and pushed him away.

"Morning breath!" I protested, and he chuckled from under my palm before puckering his lips to a kiss against the centre of my hand and climbing out of bed.

"You and your morning breath issue…" he grumbled as he stumbled tiredly out the door in nothing but his shorts. I rolled my eyes and slipped out of bed, padding my way to the bathroom and turning on the shower before brushing my teeth.

When the water heated up and the bathroom began to steam, I slipped out of my singlet and panties and let the hot, streaming water warm my body. It wasn't long before Clint was back and I could hear him brushing his own teeth by the sink, and I kept my back to the opening of the shower cubicle, washing my hair and awaiting his gentle touch.

It came sooner then I thought, and he grasped my hips with his calloused hands. They may look rough and aged; but they were really soft and warm. He was pressed flush against me and suddenly the space between our bodies was hotter then the water, and I found myself wondering if I'd turned soft; if the Black Widow was finally loosing her touch, but right now, I wasn't the Widow, I wasn't even Natasha Romanoff. I was Tasha.

He reached around the smooth skin of my stomach and turned me around, gripping my chin and tilting my head to look up at him. The water was dripping from his cropped, sandy blonde hair and his breath smelt like peppermint toothpaste and something distinctly _Clint, _but he didn't lean in to kiss me, just rested his forehead against my own and closed his eyes.

Clint had kept his promise; he'd taken away the pain, and even though I knew he was lying when he said 'just this once', he hadn't made another move to sleep with me, and I respected him for that because he _was _a decent man, no matter what I said when he was with Bobbi.

But it was moments like these that I wondered what was really going through his mind; he had every opportunity to make a tempting move, but he kept it to a minimum. Instead, he'd hold me in his arms much like now and simply listen to my breathing as a million thoughts raced through his mind, and whenever he did something like this, I felt guilty because I knew he was re-living the moment I jumped off that building, and in a way, I'd created another horror in his mind.

How many debts do I owe him now?

"You're thinking too hard again," he whispered, opening his eyes and looking down at me.

"Vice versa."

He chuckled and pulled away, reaching behind me to grab a wash sponge and soap. I stood aside and let him scrub my body clean, my breath hitching in my throat when he reached… particular places, before rinsing and doing the same to him.

It had turned into a ritual to clean each other up.

He shut the shower off and tossed me my towel, and we dried in compatible silence. He lead me to the bedroom and we pulled out our clothing, lazily getting dressed in simple, loose pants and shirts because we weren't planning on doing anything special. Clint cooked some pancakes and I watched, and the whole morning was completely perfect that I almost felt overwhelmed because we weren't acting like we did in Brazil and we were being ourselves, which was rare in its own way.

I guess, since the mission and since my suicide attempt, I was seeing our relationship in a different perspective. He was gorgeous despite his flaws because they are what make him _him,_ and everything about him was unique. Even the way he ate his pancakes made my heart clench with adoration!

"Are you mentally fucking me?" he asked with him mouth half full, and I spluttered on my juice at his bizarre question.

"Not quite," I chuckled, wiping my chin. He waggled his eyebrows but continued stuffing his face, throwing Arrow the crusty, burnt edges that he didn't feel like eating.

I cleaned off the last of my pancakes and gathered my dishes, heading to the sink to clean them up. The water took it's time to turn hot and it wasn't even the slightest bit warm when Clint came up behind me and placed his dishes in the sink with mine.

He didn't move away, though, like I expected him to. He simply placed his hands on my shoulders and rested his chin on the top of my head. I sighed and lent into his touch, and the water _still _hadn't turned hot by the time I turned around in his arms and dominated his lips with my own, scorching kiss.

I guess he was just too damn tempting.

"I lied," I whispered when we finally broke apart, gasping for air with a sly smirk on my lips. "I _was _mentally fucking you."

"I thought I saw you squirm in your seat," he winked, trailing his hands down my arms, over my waist and to my hips. I wasn't too surprised when he lifted me off my feet and shoved me onto the sink ledge, stepping between my legs and tilting my head to the roof.

He plunged his lips to the centre of my throat, and I let out an uncharacteristic moan as he kissed and sucked on the sensitive flesh. The former bruises from the other night had just started fading, but he couldn't help himself, could he?

But I guess I liked the feral side of him.

Somehow, the two best master assassins at S.H.I.E.L.D managed to slip in the moment. My ass lost its grip on the metal sink ledge and I went flying back into the small sink that was now full to the brim with boiling hot water that scorched my thighs and lower back, and I hissed in pain and roughly pushed Clint forcefully away from me before flinging myself out of the steaming water and dropping my soaked pants to my ankles.

"Shit!" I screeched, turning around to look at the burnt red flesh of my ass with clenched teeth. Clint regained his wits and was by my side in an instant, his hands hovering over the scalded mass, unsure of what to do because it looked so damn _painful _and it was all his fault.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, reaching over to the freezer and grabbing a bag of frozen peas. He wrapped them in a tea towel and pressed it firmly to my burnt skin, the relief settling in slowly as the heat continued to throb. When the sound of water splashing against the floor met our ears, Clint pulled away momentarily to shut the tap off before regaining his position behind me and leading me to the bedroom with my pants around my ankles.

"It'll fade soon," I murmured between clenched teeth as he pushed me down onto the bed on my tummy. He sat down beside me and continued to hold the cold peas to my scalded ass, and I kicked my pants off of my ankles and rested my head on my arms.

"Are you kidding me?" He chuckled without humour. "This is a second degree burn!"

"My enhancers will kick in," I said.

"We should get this treated, it looks really bad-"

"_Clint" _I lifted my head. "Lift up the ice. I can guarantee that it's looking a week old already."

Clint clicked his tongue but did just that, and I heard him snort under his breath at the sight of my healing ass.

"That's incredible." He shook his head, placing the cool pack back on my flesh and laying down beside me.

"Do you think it'll leave a scar?"

"No," I sighed, closing my eyes. "It's nothing severe."

"It's pretty funny though," he chuckled, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"How is this funny?"

"Because the moment was literally _hot." _

"Ha ha, your hilarious." I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the sting and throb of my lower regions, as I lay half naked in bed next to Clint.

.

A few hours later, after falling asleep with a pack of frozen peas on my ass, I woke to find Clint trailing my spine, counting each bump as he went. He'd hiked up my t-shirt and I hadn't even realized all because I was in the right state of mind.

All because I was vulnerable.

But I lay there with my eyes closed, and I knew that he knew that I was awake, but he didn't stop his movements, didn't even falter, and I would never get enough of his touch because it sent little waves of electricity through my body every time he made contact with my skin.

But eventually curiosity got the better of me, and I lifted my head and turned to look at my burns. There was nothing really, there; just a pale pink patch of skin covering the curve of my ass that glistened slightly in the dull light. Nothing but a scar that will fade by this time tomorrow.

"How do you feel?" Clint whispered, continuing his soft strokes.

"Fine," I shrugged, rolling over onto my back and pushing the peas away. Clint glanced down between our bodies momentarily, and in any other case with any other man, I would be using my body as a tool to gain the upper hand, but right now, here, with Clint, I felt slightly self-conscious.

But he got up momentarily and fetched my trackies from the floor, leaving my panties where they lay because who needs underwear anyway? And he helped me slide into them without a word.

"I'm sorry." He said once again.

"Don't be," I smiled, running a hand over his cheek and through his short, cropped hair. "I'm the one that left the tap on."

"I'm not apologizing about that." He said after a moments silence, and I felt my brows furrow together in confusion.

"What are you talking about, Clint?"

He took his time to speak, to contemplate his words, and they came out sort of rushed, panicked. "I know what you've been researching on my laptop."

_Oh._

Strangely enough, anger didn't spike up within and I was actually over taken by a wave of relief. I closed my eyes and plopped my head down onto the pillow.

"And?"

"And I had an… an epiphany."

"And?" I prompted again.

"Your so desperate to try and reveal the hidden secrets of your past and what they made you do… it consumes you, and I can see it in your eyes that your still in pain because you just _don't know _everything that happened in your life." He said, grabbing my hand, almost nervously, fiddling with my fingers with his own, much larger ones. "I promised to take away the pain, didn't I?"

"Yes." I whispered.

"But it's still there." He pursed his lips before continuing. "I don't break my promises, Natasha. And sleeping with you isn't the only way I can help patch you up. I contacted Phil, and he told me of a solution that S.H.I.E.L.D had come up with some time ago that would work as a repellent to the serum that's blocking your memory…"

"So your saying that there's an antidote to the serum?" I question slowly, feeling my heart rate spike up slightly.

"Yes… no… kinda. They only created it to fix your memory, not your enhancers. They don't have the advanced technological equipment for that kind of stuff yet, but this is our best chance at helping you remember."

"That's impossible…" I whispered, shaking my head as all the doubts and disbelief filled my mind once again. "They're gone forever, Clint. There's no remembering."

"You'll see," he breathed, brushing his thumb over my nose and treading his fingers through my hair. "And once you remember everything, you can finally redeem yourself, _truly." _

_._

_Ah, finally this stubborn chapter is out of the way and I can get into the stuff I've been wanting to get into for ages but this stupid developing chapter would just not click!_

_Anyway, I know it's not the best piece of written work and I was tired and school has been SO stressful lately and to add onto that list, so has work and family :/ _

_Another thanks to everyone for sticking by me for this little rollercoaster, and I promise to update soon now that this bump in the road it out of the way!_

_Leave a review and tell me what you think and if you want to see what happens next ;~) _


	15. A Step Forward

_**Natasha's POV**_

That night, it was Clint who ended up having nightmares. It was Clint who was forced awake by his own whimpering and it was Clint who needed the comfort.

He lay in a shuddering mess as I wrapped my arms firmly around his back and held him close, letting him bury his face in my chest, clutching at my sides as he tried to even his breathing. I wiped the sweat from his brow, and I didn't have a clue of what to say because I _never _comforted a person in my life.

But I guess the silence was enough to make him feel better because soon the shaking stopped and his breathing slowed and his grip loosened, and I thought at one point he had fallen back asleep in my arms until he shifted and sat up, pulling away from me and suddenly I was cold.

"Clint…" I whispered, leaning up on my elbow and watching as his face sunk into his palms and he rubbed his eyes as if to force the images out of his mind.

"Sorry." He grumbled, and I reached out to touch his spine but before my hand could make contact with his skin, he ripped the blankets away and bolted straight out the bedroom door.

I fell back against the pillow and closed my eyes, trying to get the sound of Clint's desperate cries out of my ears before I got up and followed in pursuit. He was in the bathroom, of course, and the door was slightly ajar. Arrow woke up and I patted him on the head before pushing the door open and walking in.

He was leaning against the bathroom counter, head bowed and fists clenching the porcelain until his knuckles turned white. I pursed my lips, unfolding my arms and taking a step forward, gently caressing his shoulders before I leant in and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head on his back when I was sure he wasn't going to push me away.

He was tense, and I could feel it coming off of him in waves, and he didn't look up. "Do you want some hot chocolate?" I mumbled against his skin, and I heard a tiny breath of a laugh escape his lips.

"Sure."

I smiled and puckered my lips into a kiss before pulling away and prying his fingers off of the edge of the counter, holding his wrist in my hand and turning him around.

I rested my forehead against his own and simply held his face until he opened his eyes, and they were dull and sad, as if all the life had been sucked right out of them. We made our way silently to the kitchen, and I flicked the kettle on before sliding on some track pants and taking Arrow for a piss outside, leaving Clint to have a moment on his own so he could flush everything out of his mind.

And when I got back, he was already mixing the hot chocolate in our mugs. I sighed and searched in the cupboard for the small block of chocolate that was half eaten then forgotten about when Clint threw up (vodka and chocolate don't mix well) and I grated it over the mugs so small flakes littered the foamy top of our drinks. He popped in two marshmallows each before carefully, with steady hands, lifted the mugs from the bench top and leading us back to the room.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He slurped on the hot drink and swallowed, looking up at me from the rim of his glass.

"Military memories." He shrugged.

"The bomb?"

"Yeah."

I nodded once and placed my half finished mug on the bedside table, clapping for Arrow to jump onto the bed and rest by our feet.

"I haven't had a nightmare since…" he trailed off.

"Since when?"

"Since you came along." He smirked, draining the remains of his hot chocolate and setting the glass aside. "You should know that."

Of course I did. The memory of seeing Clint on his knees, tears streaming down his face as he basically begged me to stay would never leave my mind.

"Am I loosing my touch?" I laughed, and it was meant to be a joke, but his eyes narrowed and his lips formed a thin line and my laugh died off awkwardly until we were just staring at each other.

"No. Never." He finally spat, and I was rather surprised by how cold and harsh his tone was.

"Okay." I said curtly, reaching over and shutting off the lamp, laying down and turning away from him. He stayed in the same position for approximately twelve minutes and thirty-seven seconds before he sighed and pulled the blankets over my shoulders, laying down beside me and spooning my body in his own.

He must have thought I was asleep or maybe he just wasn't concentrating enough on my breathing, but he craned his neck so he could press a gentle kiss on my jaw.

"I'm sorry my Tasha." He whispered, and I felt my brows furrow together as I stared into the darkness enveloping us in the room.

_My Tasha._

_._

_**Coulson's POV**_

The time had finally come for Natasha to have her memory back; I'd been waiting for this moment since she joined S.H.I.E.L.D. and her brain scan showed a veil surrounding her memory system. It was devastating, yet exciting, to know that her childhood had been stolen from her and even worse, the memories she had to redeem herself, and I took it into my own hands to come up with a solution to puncture whatever was blocking her mind so she could get it all back.

No one ever mention it because I wanted the moment to come when Natasha was the one who wanted to take control of her decisions for once; to have the option to make a drastic decision in her short yet torturous life. When I got the call from Clint, and heard the desperation in his voice after he told me about Natasha researching past devastations, I knew the time had come, and I ordered the lab to complete the final calculations to the serum that would reverse the brainwashing.

The lava-red liquid seemed to almost glow in the dim light, and I watched from a window as a scientist who's name I always forgot made the appropriate measurements and sucked the serum up into a syringe. He wedged it into it's case and clipped it shut, striding out of the room to meet me at the door.

"Good luck," he nodded as he passed me the case, and I nodded as I took it from his hands and headed to the car park. The drive to Clint's apartment seemed to take forever and the case seemed to be pulsing beside me, and the traffic was thick and I was beginning to get really frustrated until I pulled out my Captain America cards from my pocket and all my childish memories came back that pulled a small smile at my lips.

And when I knocked on the front door and Clint answered, I could sense instantly that the atmosphere in the room was tense despite the smile that he greeted me with. Natasha was seated on the couch, dragging her fingers through Arrows knotty hair and reading a thick book, and she waved my way without turning around as I walked inside.

"What's wrong with the two of you?" I whispered as I sat down at the small table.

"I snapped at her last night." Clint shrugged, and I could tell there was more behind the story, but he was obviously uncomfortable and I didn't want to push the conversation further.

"I've got the serum." I changed the topic, bringing the case onto the table and flipping open the clasps. Clint's eyes widened at the fierce red colour and he glanced over at Natasha, who seemed oblivious to the conversation going on across the room from her.

"Will it work?"

"It better."

"You don't know?" Clint raised an eyebrow.

"Well we haven't exactly found a brainwashed candidate to do some testing on." I defended, and Clint started drumming his fingers over the table top, almost as if he was nervous.

"Thank you." He finally mumbled, and I smiled briefly before standing up and checking my clock.

"I gotta run."

"You only just got here?"

"I've got a twelve o'clock. Some final papers and singings and the Helicarrier is ours," I beamed, and Clint shook his head at me before standing and closing the lid on the case, placing it on the floor under the table; out of sight, out of mind.

As I left made my way to the door, I could see Natasha throw me a knowing look that had gratefulness written all over it; and it was probably the best thank you I could get from the coldest Russian assassin in the world.

.

_Who's excited to see what happens next?! _

_Review!_


	16. Memories of My Past

_**Winter's POV**_

I watch through the window, crouched low on the fire escape to mingle in the shadows, as Natalia and her new partner engage in a tight embrace, and I can feel the fire of jealously light my bones and it takes all my will power to stay where I am, silent as the night. He takes her hand and leads her to the lounge, and the small lamp illuminates the room with an orange tinge, bright enough for me to read his lips.

'_Are you sure this is what you want to do?' _He asks, absently tracing a thumb over her hand in an almost nervous gesture.

'_Only if you promise to be here in the morning.' _She tries to smile, but it turns into more of a grimace. Her partner nods with a light chuckle and reaches beside him for a small silver case, and when he flicks it open and pulls out a syringe full of lava-red liquid that almost seemed to be glowing, I could feel my world shattering around me.

She's nervous; I could tell. Her body was too stiff and she kept shifting her arms, her legs, her whole body… and she wasn't trying to hide it. She was as open as a book. Like she used to be with me.

He fists his hands in her hair and drapes it over her shoulder, revealing the white, soft flesh that, if I saw correctly, had fading love kisses littered over the skin. She turned her head towards him when he feels for her pulse, and their eyes meet, and the look they shared was so intimate and passionate that the whole world could be in a state of corrupt and it wouldn't even tear them apart.

She leans in and whispers something in his ear, and her lips disappear from view, so I miss whatever it was she said. He laughs a little, but it was forced, and I saw as he swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. She then lays down on the lounge, and he pulls her legs up and onto his lap as he leans over to position the needle to the place where the pulse beats beneath her neck.

She closes her eyes and grips his wrist as his thumb pushes against the end of the syringe, and a number of expressions flitter across her beautiful features as the bright red liquid drains into her body. He purses his lips and I can see how the worry washes over his face but he doesn't stop, and once all the liquid is gone, once the syringe is empty, her grip on his wrist slackens and her body goes limp against the couch cushions and the whole room is silent.

He places the empty syringe on the floor and claps his hands, and a dog comes trotting into the lounge room, oblivious to what just happened. The animal jumps up onto the couch, and it's a bit of a tight squeeze, but all three of them fit snugly. He pulls the quilt from the back of the lounge over Natalia's shoulders, and soon falls asleep with his hand wrapped tightly around hers.

I flee from the fire escape as if the wind blew me off my feet, and as I widen the distance between myself and that apartment, my curiosity grows.

What was in that syringe?

.

_**Natasha's POV**_

_The fire was thick and I couldn't breath; every time the oxygen escaped my lungs was another breath leading me to my death. _

_I can here screaming, coming from up stairs, but I can't move, I can't see, but I cry because it's the only thing I know how to do._

_Strong arms wrap around my waist and I am being carried through the burning ruins of what used to be my home. I can see old photographs and ornaments destroyed on the floor, but whoever carries me doesn't stop to try and save any of the valuables. _

_The cool wind suddenly hits my face and I can breath once again, but by the time I can see, the flames were protruding from every opening in the house, every door and window engulfed by an angry fire, and I knew it was too late to save my family. _

_._

_Ivan reassures me that the pain will go away. He tells me I am getting stronger, and my body is readjusting to the enhancements that will make me a better spy. _

_Although it feels like my body is on fire, I try my best to ignore it because besides the pain, I can feel my muscles growing stronger._

_The rest of the girls whimper and cry, but I don't make a sound. Ivan doesn't like girls that make a fuss; and one must never get on Ivan's bad side. _

_._

_The gun is heavy in my hand but my strong arm never falters under its weight. It sits perfectly in my small hand, and every time I pull the trigger, my aim is closer to the centre of the target than the last time. _

_I feel triumph in myself because most of the other girls can't even hold the gun in a straight line of sight, and Ivan praises me for my good work. _

_._

_The man in front of me is not of Russian decent… he has an American accent and his skin was too tanned to always be in the shade of the Russian sky. He's strapped to a chair and has blood dripping from several wounds all over his body, but I don't let my brows furrow together in a frown because Ivan always told me it would be my expression that caused my death. _

_The mans eyes widen when the guard who led me here hands me a gun, _my _gun, and the familiarity is comforting in the unfamiliar situation. _

"_Shoot him." The guard demands, and I look up at him, close to protesting, but I know better than to disobey, so I keep my mouth shut. _

_The American's eyes start to glimmer with tears and he lets out a shaky breath. _

"_I have a daughter like you," he says, and his Russian sounds strange, as if he only learnt it the night before. "She doesn't play with guns; she plays with toys. You never play with toys?"_

_I shake my head but do not speak as I raise my gun, taking a step forward so there are only a few feet separating us. _

"_You remind me of her. My daughter is very beautiful. She loves her daddy. She loves me." His voice is becoming desperate now, and I turn around to the guard once again. _

"_Why?" I ask._

"_He is a danger to our country." Was all he says, and I turn back to the American because whoever is a threat to Russia is a threat to me._

_I flick off the safety to my gun and he lets out a sob. "Please…"_

_It is not the cleanest shot, and there is blood splattered over the walls behind his head, and some even managed to spray onto me, but I don't wipe it away as I lower my arm, staring at the first man I had ever killed. _

_Later that night, during dinner, Ivan congratulates me because I am the youngest candidate to make a kill with no hesitation. _

_._

_The girls show spite towards me as every clean kill goes by. Ivan tells me they are jealous and that one day, I'll be recognized as the spy I am built to be. He demands that I take ballet classes and it is a mentally and physically exhausting art, but I do not disappoint. I am short but graceful and soon I am sent to perform on stage. I gain the marks attention with my skill but Ivan tells me not to seduce them; he wants me to leave it to the other girls so they get a chance to kill as much as I do._

_For some reason, I'm disappointed that I'm not the one who gets to put a bullet through someone's brain. _

_._

_I am hardly a teenager when I am sent to a nightclub to seduce a mark. My hair is styled and I have layers of makeup to make me look older, and the heels add extra height and the tight dress defines my curves so I guess I look old enough to get inside. _

_I pretend to drink the alcohol as I keep a calm eye on my mark. He is much older, maybe three times my age, but he can't keep his filthy stare off of my body, and it's not long before he makes his way over and offers me his arm. _

_Later that night, he is drunk enough to spill every dirty secret I needed to know with every article of clothing I removed. I know how to use my body because Ivan taught me how to use it as a weapon and a tool, and I let the man touch me and fool around with my body as I fake my pleasure. I feel disgusted; more disgusted than I feel with Ivan, but I do not let him know. The man thrusts inside of me and I flip us over so I am on top because I need to be in control, and before he can scream his pleasure or release his seed inside of me, I slit his throat and remove him from my body as he gargles on his own blood. _

_I remove every trace of my presence and hack into the security systems, removing every single trace of footage of myself from the screens, and as I re-dress and fix up my hair and makeup, the sound of blood dripping onto the tiles in the background, I feel like I've gained a new weapon that will never leave because it is _me.

_._

_Ivan tells me that he has someone he wants me to meet, and I wonder if I'm going to kill this 'special' someone._

_Instead, I am introduced to an extraordinary man. His hair is dark, like moleskin, and his eyes are a piercing blue. Ivan explains that he is a soldier and a spy that I will be partnered with because our skill set can match and be undefeatable._

_His name is the Winter Soldier and he as a magnificent metal arm, and he is cold to me at first and I to him. We are sent on much more dangerous missions; fire fights, where bullets rain down on us and it's the two of us against an army of men. We complete every mission with minimum wounds and sometimes when I can't stitch the middle of my back together, he'll com and help me without a word, his metal fingers brushing over my spine and making goosebumps raise involuntarily over my body. _

_And then he's gone. _

_._

_I am getting punished more and more as the months go by. Apparently I used too much ammunition that Ivan couldn't afford or I left one too many threats alive, and I take the torture without a word because I deserve it, right?_

_Scars litter my body, and I've lost count of which were inflicted by an enemy or by my own leaders. _

_I see the Winter Soldier more then I see the other girls, but I don't care because I'd rather fight with a man who knew what he was doing over those who are jealous of how many men and women they kill._

_Winter and I are sent on a small mission, with only one target, who was a woman. Winter covers his arm and I watch from afar as he tries to seduce our mark… but nothing works. She doesn't like men. And soon it is me grinding up against her on the dance floor. _

_Winter watches through the window as I take the woman to bed, and I felt a more playful side take over as I imagined the dirty thoughts running through his mind. I show off a bit, and I can hear his breathing grow heavy through the comm as I let out a moan as our target flicks her tongue over the sensitive flesh between my thighs. _

_Soon she's dead and I wipe myself clean, and when I meet Winter outside of the bar, we are silent as we make our way to the safe house._

_Extraction is an hour away, so we eat and freshen up, and I soon find myself pressed between the bathroom wall and Winter's strong, sculpted body. He doesn't touch me, he has his hands leaning against the wall either side of my head, but his face is close enough that I can smell his minty breath. _

"_Your such a tease." He hisses before he pulls away, and I smirk as he turns around the exits the bathroom without turning back._

_I later learn that his real name is James. _

_._

Woo! Learning about Natasha's past is fun!

Who wants to see more of her memories and how they lead up to her becoming partners with Clint? Or who wants me to go straight to the present?

Please let me know so I can start writing the next chapter faster ;~D

Review fast!


	17. Are You Okay?

Natasha had been in a relatively calm sleep during the night, only shifting occasionally on the lounge. I'd picked her body up and carried her to the bedroom when my back started to get sore and she didn't even stir, and even in her sleep I could see a number of expressions flitter across her face.

It was early in the morning and the sun was only just starting to filter through the curtains when her body broke into a wild spasm. Her whole body was jolting and buckling and her eyes were wide yet unseeing and if I weren't a smarter man, I might have thought a demon was taking over her soul.

I knew better than to try and hold her down, because surely if she woke in this state of trauma, she wouldn't hesitate to hurt me. I sat there feeling helpless and was about to reach for my mobile to call Phil when I noticed she wasn't breathing. Instead, throaty, gasping sounds were escaping her throat but no oxygen was meeting her struggles and it sounded like she was suffocating.

My first aid training kicked in and before I knew it, I was giving her CPR. I could feel her chest rise with every breath I blew into her mouth and I tried not to crush her bones when I started the compressions. I succeeded, and soon she was spluttering and gasping and reaching and thrashing and her eyes were wild and I tried my best not to let her hurt me without me hurting her but she wacked me across the face and my eye stung but I ignored the pain and caught her wrists, pinning her arms above her head on the bed and straddling her waist.

Finally her gaze focused and she stared at me with wide eyes as she panted.

"Clint?" She gasped, making a futile attempt to escape my iron grip upon her wrists.

"It's me, Tasha." I said in the most reassuring voice I could muster. Her eyes roamed over my face, taking in each and every feature as if she were a blind woman seeing the stars for the first time, and I let her look at me without moving, let her eyes soak in the fact that _I was here _and no Ivan or Red Room was going to take her away.

"What happened to your eye?" she whispered after a long moment, and I only then registered the throbbing pain behind my right eye. I released her wrists and bought my fingers to the wound, and there was no blood, so it must have swollen up or started bruising for her to notice.

"Nothing." I reassured because I didn't want her to feel guilty.

Her lip trembled the slightest and her eyes were so lost that I felt a part of my heart break at how innocently terrified she was, and I rolled off of her body and laid down beside her before dragging her into my arms and letting her hold me tight. She didn't cry, but her breathing was ragged as it blew across my neck. I ran my hand through her hair and untangled the kinks and knots, and the hours ticked by and the sun grew brighter and the city racket grew louder but I could lay here for a thousand years and not be bothered at all simply because she was in my arms.

"I don't know what to think." She whispered eventually, her voice broken and almost empty.

"Don't think then."

"Easier said than done."

"I know."

She laughed without humour and pulled away, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and holding her head in her hands. "There's just so much more to my life then I thought there was. It's overwhelming."

There was really nothing for me to say to that, so I stood up and walked around the bed to where she sat.

"Come for a bath."

She sighed before taking my extended hand and letting me pull her up. She was slightly wobbly on her feet but gained her balance easily enough. When we reached the bathroom I looked in the mirror and saw the purple-blue bruise forming beneath my eye, but the swelling had gone down somewhat and was mostly unnoticeable. Natasha was biting her lip when she saw me examining the damage but didn't question it further, instead bending down to turn on the water to the tub.

The piercing sound of rough, gushing water must have been too loud because Natasha flinched and her hands flew to her ears as she slammed her eyes shut.

"I feel like I've got a concussion," she hissed before storming out of the bathroom and leaving me on my own. I pursed my lips but proceeded to squeeze the scented soap into the water and watching it bubble up. When the tub was full and the room was steamy, I popped my head out the door and saw Natasha leaning her back against the hallway wall, and she made her way back into the bathroom without a word.

She silently stripped bare and kicked her discarded clothes into the corner, and I did the same. I slipped into the almost scorching water first and she followed, moulding herself between my body and the side of the tub so she could prop her head on my shoulder and close her eyes.

"Do you ever feel like we were born to kill?" She whispered, scooping bubbles absently into her palms and blowing lightly onto them.

"Killers aren't born; they're built." I shrugged.

She hummed her agreement and started shifting in the bath, and I heard the water slosh over the edge and splash onto the floor. When she swung one leg over my waist and sat on top of me, I grew curious, but she splayed her hands out on my chest and looked me dead in the eye.

"I don't think I've ever told you this – and you know I'm not good with sentiment – but I need to let you know that I am ever so grateful to you for saving me from myself."

"It was the best decision I ever made." I smiled, my hands absently crawling their way to her hips.

"And you need to know that my debt is still in place. I still owe you my life over and over again."

"But Tasha… you saved me, too."

"It's not the same."

I sighed and let my head fall forward onto her chest, her hot, slick skin colliding with my dry forehead, and she twined her fingers in my short hair and I could feel her lips pucker into a kiss against my skull.

"Your so silly." I breathed, and despite the steamy hot temperature in the room, goosebumps rose on her skin.

"Your sillier."

"Don't argue with me, Romanoff," I smirked, raising an eyebrow and lifting my head to look her in the eye.

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Kiss that cheeky little smile right off your beautiful lips."

Maybe it was a cheesy line, but she didn't pull away when I followed my word.

.

Her skin was like porcelain and there was something rewarding about being able to skim my fingers over her pale flesh and make a shiver erupt through her body. Every touch was like a fiery trail and the small noises escaping her lips were enough to pull me over the edge. I didn't drag it on and make it last; it was something pure and spontaneous. The water spilled over the edge and the bath was nearly empty but it didn't bother us because it went down the drain anyway.

By the time we dried off and got dressed, it was afternoon and Natasha wanted to go for a walk. We clipped Arrow to his leash and when we reached our private, secluded area in the park, she rested her head on my shoulder and although it was the simplest of movements, it was still a sign of affection in a public area.

"I know who he is."

"Who?"

"The Winter Soldier."

My eyes widened and I looked down at her as she watched Arrow chase pigeons in the distance.

"His name is James. He has dark, long hair like moleskin and eyes as blue as the sky and his teeth were perfectly straight and when he smiles I feel like everything in the world is okay. We've met him before, and he was rather hostile towards you but you never knew why… and he's watching us right now."

The pang of jealousy hit me before the surprise, and I took a deep breath.

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

"Is he going to hurt us?"

"I don't think so."

"Are you okay?"

"No."

.

_Hey all! Sorry for the short chapter and sorry for the long wait but I have exams this week and I had my SOSE one today and I think I did pretty good but I don't know… I wrote this chapter tonight because I have a maths exam tomorrow and I hate maths so I'd rather write than study hehe :~) _

_I might not update again until later this week or early next week, but I promise it'll be long and full of Clintasha goodness, old memories and nightmares, maybe some BuckNat action and angst. If there's anything you want me to add into the story, let me know in a review and I'll see if I can corporate it into the chapter/s!_

_So review, review, review!_


	18. Deceitful Love

_**Winters POV**_

She walks with her head held high but there is a significant sadness that pulses off her body. She is strong willed, does not want anyone to feel sympathy nor see the pain in her eyes, but being the person who trained her to feel that way gives an advantage.

She and her partner stroll through the park with their scruffy dog, not saying a word. They walk close to each other, and are in synch with every move they make. It's like a dance, the way their legs match in pace with each step and how their hands are so close to touching, but they don't.

They stop walking and let the dog off the leash, and he runs off to chase the pigeons. They have their backs to me, so I make quick work to sneak through the bushes to give an appropriate view of her face.

She grows more and more beautiful every day.

His eye is bruised and I wonder why because it wasn't like that the last time I saw him. They stay silent for a long time, and the minutes ticked by painfully slow. She takes a step closer to him, closing the space between the sides of their bodies, and she rests her head on his shoulder because she's so tiny that she can find comfort anywhere. He smiles lightly and I feel my jealousy flare, watching as he puts an arm on her side to hold her in place.

And then she starts talking.

And she knows that I am watching.

But her eyes never even roamed to where I was standing and I wonder just how much she'd learnt with her senses while being partners with the sniper.

_She knows who I am. _

Finally her eyes rest on the bush that I hide behind, and I consider stepping out and revealing myself… but now is not the time. It is too soon… I want to meet her alone.

And I see in her eyes that she wishes for the same thing.

I dash from the bush and disappear from view, and no one follows me to my apartment.

.

_**Clint's POV**_

The next couple of days pass by quietly, and our downtime is coming to an end within four days. We'll be sent out on the field again; killing, fighting, surviving, and Natasha isn't exactly emotionally stable because despite having three weeks to level out, things have just gotten heavier.

Phil comes over one day and asks how she's feeling, and she bushes off his concern with false answers and smiles. I know she's lying, not because I can read her so well, but because at night, she whimpers and cries and thrashes out and sleep seems to be the least important activity on my list because most of the night, I'm cradling her in my arms and telling her everything is okay.

And it is, because she's with me and not with the Red Room. We did what the Council ordered us to do, so now Natasha has a choice on whether or not she wants to accept a mission, which is helpful because she can deny anything that could affect her emotions while she is in this state of mind.

She laughs only once, and that is when I show her the e-mail sent my S.H.I.E.L.D officials, inviting us to the Christmas party being held on base.

"What sort of espionage intelligence organization throws a Christmas party?" She scoffed, rolling her eyes with a smirk playing on the corners of her lips.

"They hide Easter eggs all over the place, too."

And then she spluttered on the water she was drinking and let out a snort of a laugh that sounded kinda like a pig but was cute in its own way simply because it came from her.

We laughed together then, and when things were quiet, her face grew thoughtful.

"We've been partners for nearly four years." She sighed, placing the bottle of water down on the bench.

"_How have you put up with me for this long?"_ I exaggerated, gripping her shoulders and shaking her lightly with a chuckle. She laughed again, slapping me on the arm when I released her.

My phone rang then, and Natasha wandered into the bedroom as I turned to answer.

"Hello-"

"_THE HELICARRIER IS OURS!"_

Oh, Phil.

.

_**Natasha's POV**_

"_The bomb has been successfully planted on the sixth floor."_

"_Good, now get the hell out of there."_

_I rolled my eyes but continued down the sterile-smelling halls, passing several other nurses on my way. They nodded briefly before burying their faces in their clipboards to avoid conversation, and I did the same to avoid any unwanted attention. _

_I waited outside the elevator, watching as a small boy was wheeled over in his chair. His mother petted his head and pressed the button to their designated floor, smiling at me before bending down in front of her son and grasping his hands. _

"_Just a few more hours and we can go home," she whispered, pressing her lips to each of his fingertips. The small boy smiled weakly, his tired eyes drooping. _

"_Where is papa?"_

"_Down stairs, with the twins. Grandma will be coming soon, too."_

_The elevator finally arrived and I stepped inside, allowing room for the wheelchair, too. I tried to ignore the conversation that continued about the small sick boy and his family, and I tried to push down the guilt, but my emotions started running haywire and the detonator in my pocket suddenly weighed a tonne. _

_And then I reached my floor and fled from the elevator, and the guilt was gone and I let my mask slip back into place. _

_I found a storage closet and locked myself in there, making quick work to shed my nurse outfit so I was back to wearing my jeans and white blouse. I stuffed the sterile material in the corner and pulled out my hair, and as I made my way through the busy emergency room crowded with injured men, women and children, I snagged a white coat and shrugged it on casually. _

_They are all going to die because of me. _

_I pushed open the door and held it in place to let a few people walk in, and they smiled and said thank you as if I just made their day. I didn't drop my act of a friendly civilian until I was a safe distance away from the hospital and found the ally that Winter awaited._

_As soon as he came into sight, I yanked the comm link out of my ear and crunched it underneath my boot. He did the same, and met me halfway. _

"_Any complications?" he asked, holding out his hand for the detonator that I slipped out of my pocket. _

"_No."_

"_Good. Where did you plant the bomb?"_

"_Underneath the targets hospital bed. There's not way he'll survive."_

"_What if he gets out of bed to go to the bathroom? There is a slight chance."_

_I narrowed my eyes and turned to face him. "The sleeping pills I convinced him to swallow will take care of that."_

_Winter grinned and caressed my face with his thumb before activating the detonator. _

"_Will you do the honour?"_

_I tried not to hesitate as he held the small device out to me, but it was noticeable and he caught onto my expression easily. _

"_You are not having regrets, are you? Ivan would-"_

"_No." I snapped, snatching the device out of his hand and peeking around the corner of the ally. The hospital was tall and menacing in the distance, with dozens of civilians carrying on with their normal lives. _

_I pressed the button before the guilt and regret swallowed me completely, and the boom of the bomb reached my ears before I was thrown backwards by the wave of energy. Winter caught me easily and steadied me to my feet._

_There was a pause in time, as if the world was slowly registering what had just happened. Then the sound of debris falling in piles to the ground deafened our senses and suddenly, everyone was screaming. _

_._

"Natasha."

_The screaming grew louder, and my ears rang from the impact of the explosion._

"Your okay."

_Winter gripped my wrist and when I looked at him, his face was one of fear, but it was an act because it didn't reach his eyes. It meant that I had to do the same thing; pretend to be afraid to blend with the crowd. _

"No ones going to hurt you."

_He dragged me out of the ally and into the rushing crowd, weaving through the civilians and coughing from the smoke. I kept up the pace and as we got closer to the smouldering building, more and more bodies littered the floor… bodies that would never move again._

"I'm here!"

My eyes snapped open and the familiar room that surrounded me welcomed me to reality. My breathing was heavy and I was covered in a cold sweat, and Clint had my face cradled in his large, warm hands.

"Clint, I'm so scared." I whispered before I could stop myself, and the sadness that washed over his eyes was overwhelming. I gripped his wrist when his hands started to leave my face, and he pursed his lips, hesitating before he spoke.

"You know… there is medication or treatment that can stop the nightmares…"

"No." I deadpanned, narrowing my eyes as my breathing slowed down. "No. Taking medication is an act of weakness. I am not weak."

"Your doing it again," he sighed, sliding his hands out of my grasp and sitting up in bed, flicking on the lamp on the way.

"Doing what?"

"Chanting. You do it when something triggers a thought from the Red Room… like weakness."

"It's out of habit." I frowned, and Clint nodded solemnly as he stared at his hands in his lap.

"Okay… maybe medication isn't the best idea, your enhancers may soak them up too quick… therapy?"

"No doctor would understand. They don't know the depth of the nightmares nor do I want to tell them."

His face grew thoughtful and he was silent for a long time. I slipped out of the bed and went to the toilet, and while I was there, I brushed my teeth, too. When I got back, he was still in the same position with the same look on his face; only Arrow had invited himself onto the bed, too.

I climbed under the blankets, and flipped off the lamp. I pushed Clint down so he was lying on his back and I curled myself into his side. He mechanically wrapped an arm around me and the thud of his heart was close to lulling me to sleep before he spoke again.

"Maybe you don't need a professional… maybe you just need someone to talk to."

"What do you mean?"

"Talk to me, Tasha." He breathed, and I closed my eyes as I listened to him speak. "Every night, before you fall asleep, talk to me about the thing that is bothering you the most. We need to keep you calm and meditated. I'll buy you your favourite tea and some new socks and you'll fall asleep like you have no problems in the world."

"New socks would be nice." I hummed, placing my hand over his bare chest.

"And maybe some new lingerie to make you feel sexy, too." He chuckled, and I shook my head and slapped him on the shoulder despite the grin that crept onto my face.

"Only if you pay."

"Sure thing."

.

The sun had barely risen from its depths when I awoke, almost on instinct, as if my mind had a mental alarm clock ringing in my ears. Clint was sleeping soundly beside me, his mouth slightly open and his hair flat on his head. He was tired, and I didn't blame him for being so, considering the lack of sleep he was having thanks to me. I slipped out from the cocoon of his arms, bringing the blanket to his neck to keep him warm in my absence. Arrow opened his eyes as the bed shifted, but didn't move from where he lay. Good boy.

I got dressed quickly, quietly, slipping on some quarter cut leggings and a loose jumper. My joggers were out near the front door, and I brushed my teeth and tied my hair into a loose ponytail before slipping them on.

I assumed Clint would not be awake by the time I got back, and I didn't plan on spending too much time at the park anyway…

The air was cold and I wondered idly if it would be snowing by Christmas as I did my quick routine of stretches outside of the apartment building. I started jogging, letting the sound of my pulse in my ears calm my nerves as I made my way to the familiar secluded area of Central Park.

I sat on the grass and bought my knees to my chest, knowing that I would be able to feel _his _presence when he made an appearance. And I knew he would.

And he did.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, not from the cold, but from the feeling of being watched. I stood from where I sat and turned to where my instincts told me he was waiting.

"I know your there." I called out, placing my hands on my hips and cocking my head to the side.

There was a long pause in the atmosphere and time seemed to stretch beyond limits as he stepped out from the shrubbery. His hair was slightly longer then the last time I saw him here, but his eyes were as piercing as ever, the cobalt blue matching the colour of the ocean. He walked forward, his posture the perfect one of a soldier, and stopped in front of me. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding and suddenly the cold started to reach my senses and an involuntary shiver coursed its way up my spine.

"Winter."

"Widow."

"Fancy seeing you here." I said after a long pause. His piercing blue eyes raked over my body, soaking in every patch of skin, every curve… but not in the way a normal, dirty man would. He was actually _seeing _me, savouring the sight of his long lost partner.

"Vice versa."

"What are you doing here, James?" I sighed, dropping my arms from my hips and cocking my head to the side.

"I needed to see you."

"Why?"

"…You left."

"Either that or die. Surely I wouldn't have lasted another four years in the Red Room."

"I did."

I felt my eyebrows knit together in confusion. "The Red Room is down, James. You saw me do it."

"There are other people out there. Ivan wasn't the only leader."

"So you're still working for them?"

He shrugged and nodded, his lips turning down at the corners as his eyes dropped to the floor.

"Come back, Natalia." He breathed, scratching the dirt with the toe of his shoe.

"No way. I've changed sides; there's no going back."

He scoffed and looked back up at me, eyes sceptical and narrowed. "You don't honestly think that this American organization cares about you? Please tell me you haven't gone so soft."

When I didn't reply, he shook his head and grasped my shoulders, and I tensed immediately under his cool touch.

"You've fallen for the archer, haven't you?"

"Love is for-"

"Children. Right. Then tell me what we were, Natalia, because you sure as hell said a lot of things suggesting otherwise."

"What we had wasn't _real, _Winter!" I moaned, swatting his hands away and taking a step back. "What we had was full of lies and deception, I was _brainwashed _most of the time and I am only now remembering _why _I am in the position I am now, with you following me around the world!"

"Because you _left _me! One night we were talking about our wildest dreams, then you disappear for a month or so, and when I see you again, you have no idea who I am!"

I fell silent.

He continues. "I don't know why, or how, but Ivan must have known what was going on with us. He reset your mind, wiped away every memory of you and I and what we had, leaving me wondering what the hell I've done wrong and watching you slowly disappear from my life."

"How come I can't remember any of this?" I whispered, more to myself. The serum was supposed to recover my memory, yet I am still learning things that hurt the most.

"Then you change sides, partnered with the infamous Hawkeye, and the next thing I know, the two of you are blowing up base into smithereens… and he holds you in the snow as you bleed and I can see the way you look up at him… the way you used to look at me…"

"I know that when I look at him I see a broken soul looking for something worth fighting for. But when I look at you… I see nothing. I know nothing about you; you're a handsome man that I grew attracted to because of how committed you were as a solider. _That's _the difference. What we had, it was a… a…"

"A what?" he pressed as I searched for the words. I sighed and shook my head, rubbing my temples and closing my eyes before looking up at him.

"It was a deceitful love."

I watched as his face dropped, almost in slow motion. His eyes flew closed, as if he could erase the memory of my last words and his lips puckered into a firm line. My heart was beating erratically and for some strange reason I felt the sudden urge to cry because this broken soldier has nothing left worth fighting for.

"I guess that's all I needed to hear…" he whispered brokenly, turning his face away from me.

I reached out before I knew what I was doing, and my hand – almost hesitantly – rested upon his cheek as I turned it back towards my view. He kept his gaze downwards, however, hiding his eyes under his bangs.

"Why do you turn from me?"

"It's better to hide my face so the world will never find me."

He was broken, too.

The urge to cry and the hesitation and my beating heart pushed me forward, and I stepped closer to his body, closing the space between us so, even though he was looking down, I could see his face.

"I'm sorry."

And then I reached up on my tippy toes, and my lips parted in the slightest of ways as they touched his own. The kiss was almost familiar, sweet, and I could almost feel him shaking beneath my fingertips as I ran my hand over the strong line of his jaw. There was tenderness, there was fondness… but there was no passion. Clint was full of passion when we kissed.

His hands were hesitant as they touched my sides but they ventured no further then my waist, and suddenly every memory came rushing back; every kiss, every smile and every laugh, every time we fought to keep one another safe…

And then he pulled away, eyes crinkled in the corners as he took one, two, three steps back.

"They'll be looking for me soon." He said blankly, and I tried to ignore the wave of guilt that washed over me.

_Clint._

"Who's they?"

"You left. That information is now classified."

"Well, I wish the best of luck to you." I mumbled, reaching into the pocket of my jacked and grasping the rose stem that lay inside.

I held it up, and I saw his blank face slowly crumple once more.

"To you it was a deceitful love… but to me, it was pure."

He turned his back to me and took a few steps, before turning around once again.

"I will see you again, Natalia. But it wont be _me. _I am being reprogrammed… the Winter Soldier will no longer have a weakness. But you need to know, you were the best thing that ever happened to me."

.

_**Clint's POV**_

Shattered.

I am shattered.

The sighed of their lips connecting imprints itself in my mind and I cannot wipe it away.

I turn from the scene; I cant find it in myself to watch as the only woman I ever really trusted find comfort in an old lover, and I make my way back through the trees towards my apartment.

She doesn't get back until a little later, and she notices the fist-sized hole in the door as soon as she walks in. the furniture is overturned in the living room and I can scarcely remember the red rage that poured through my blood as soon as the front door closed, but she doesn't seem to pay close attention to the havoc, instead makes her way to the bedroom where I sit, slumped on the bed.

I promised myself I would never let a woman control my emotions, so why have I become so weak?

She tries to comfort me but the feel of her hands on my back make me shiver in betrayal and I shrug her off.

"Clint." She says firmly, and before I knew it, I was pinned to the wall with her beautiful yet sorrow face looking me dead in the eye.

"Let me explain."

.

_Okay so maybe this chapter isn't as along as I intended and there isn't much Clintasha but the Winter Soldier is gone and we wont see him till CA2. _

_I just want to let you all know that the whole 'love' triangle is something a little like the Phantom of the Opera, how she knows what she wants but there is still a corrupted mind who dreams of her beauty. In a way, ClintxNatashaxWinter is exactly like a PhantomxChristinexRaoul relationship. _

_Anyway, PLEASE review and tell me what you think! A S.H.I.E.L.D Christmas party is upon the horizon and the helicarrier is theirs!_


	19. Let Your Words Linger

I didn't reply to her as she held me pinned to the wall by my throat, eyes deceptively calm but the frown on her brow saying otherwise. I gripped her wrist and threw her hand away from me, silently relishing the air that was now easily accessing my lungs without a struggle and storming past her rigid form without a backwards glance.

"Your being pathetic, Clint." She called after me, her voice thick and rough at the same time and by the sounds of it, she was on the verge of tears.

"Am I?" I growled, slamming the door shut and leaving her alone as I stormed out of the bedroom. She silently followed in pursuit as I kicked the already over-turned coffee table out of my way and dug my fingers in my scalp to stop myself from punching another hole in the wall.

The sound of Arrows nails tapping along the floor as we walked into the room caught my attention; his head was bowed and his tail was sunken between his legs as he rounded the corner and I realized that even though he was merely an animal, he has horrors and nightmares too; nightmares of abusive owners and yelling and fighting, just like now.

I dropped my hands from my hair and brushed past Natasha, squatting to meet Arrows gaze as he coward away from me. I whispered soothing words to him but when I reached out with my hand, he stumbled back on his paws and ran back the way he came.

"What exactly did you see?" he voice broke through my wave of guilt, and I spun around on my heel to glare at her.

"I saw you _kissing _your old _partner!"_

There it is again. That gut wrenching feeling that overwhelms me when the mere thought of her locking lips with a man whom she used to share intimacy with. I swallowed the lump in my throat and clenched my fists so that my nails were digging into the inside of my hands. She pursed her lips and took a step forward.

"It's not what you think, Clint. He's gone."

"Yeah? So you have to _kiss him _goodbye?"

"YOU WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND!" she suddenly bellowed, loud enough for me to internally flinch at the sudden outburst. She strode forward, shoved me backwards until I stumbled into a wall once again, her finger pointedly jabbing into my chest.

"You remember all those times you bought Bobbi home late at night? Every night I lay in bed and all I can hear is her moaning your name and every kiss I see is like a bullet to an arm or a leg, some place where it hurts but not enough to kill. I sleep in the same bed where you fucked her and sometimes I swear it even _smells _like her but I kept my goddamn mouth shut because if I had said anything like this before, you would have gotten mad and tried to tell me she was nothing but a pity fuck after Coulson told you to back off from me."

I narrowed my eyes and grabbed both of her wrists this time, pulling them above her head before spinning around so this time it was _her _pressed against the wall.

"Bobbi was a _mistake _and I don't know how many times I have you tell you that for you to believe me! She was _nothing _but a pity fuck and every time I remember what went on between the two of us I feel dirty and rotten because I basically led you on and when you got home, there was somebody else there. But you cannot make me the bad guy in this situation because you and Winter shared something far more passionate than Bobbi and I and I wake up to find that you've disappeared and when I figure out where you are, your _kissing _an old lover the exact same way you kiss me!"

"He's _gone, _Clint! We will never see him again! I was finishing off something that was never whole to begin with! You see this?" She reached into her pocket and pulled out a dried, brown rose stem that pierced her skin from the tight grip she had on it. "_He _gave me this! I used to wonder and dream about a moment where a man would give me flowers in such a dark time but now that I know, it holds barely any significance to me at all because _I have you!"_

"I just thought you were going to leave me again," I whispered, dropping my head between my arms that rest on either side of her shoulders. Her fingers curled into my hair and I felt her press her cheek to my skull.

"Come to the bedroom. Lets talk calmly." She whispered, trailing her hand all the way up my arm and curling her fingers between my own and the wall so she could lead me through the mess of a living room and into the bedroom.

We folded ourselves together under the blankets, kicking off our shoes and hooking our legs under each other's. She let me lay my head on her chest with her arm wrapped around my shoulders and I breathed in her familiar scent that always seemed to calm me from any type of mood.

"Tell me… does it feel like your former life never existed? The military, the circus or the orphanage? Your brother?"

"It feels that way, but I know that it all happened."

"Okay. Now what would you do if you saw Barney?"

"I-I don't know." I replied, taken aback by her random question.

"You'd be shocked. And scared. And confused. Because the life you are slowly forgetting has opened up to you once more and the single piece of evidence is standing right before you. You'd ask him questions and he'd ask them back and you know you have to do the one thing that will set things straight. Whether it be forgive him or forget him… or even kill him, you'd do it just to know that one more debt in your life was cleared."

"What are you getting at?"

"That's exactly what I felt, Clint. Winter was the best thing that ever happened to me… in another life. The life you saved me from. But things between us were cut short – and now they're not. You're the only reason that I stick around, and nothing is going to change that. _No one _is going to change that. I was just kissing the last piece of evidence goodbye – and now I can stop worrying and let my new life unfold before me with you by my side."

I closed my eyes and burring my face in her hair, and I felt her heartbeat quicken at the movement.

"You promised to make the pain go away… and you did. You save me from my past and from myself. You saved me from my suicidal thoughts… you bought back all my memories and your sticking beside me through it all like the crazy jackass you are. Some days I feel like I could drown in my own sorrows but you cut through the darkness like a beam of light and suddenly I know everything is okay. You made a promise, and you kept it. My debt towards you is growing more and more personal each day and I hope that I can owe it to you sometime soon."

"You don't owe me anything, Tasha."

"I do. And I'll follow you across the world until it's cleared."

"As will I."

.

A week has passed since my confrontation with Winter and each night I would tell Clint the deepest and darkest secrets that haunt my dreams. He would assure me that that life doesn't exist anymore and sometimes he didn't even need to use words to tell me I was safe; his eyes spoke for him. He kept his promise and bought me some new socks; the thick, fluffy type that I end up kicking off my feet because they get too hot. He makes a good tea but never gets the sugar right and the lingerie… well, that was a bonus, too.

We'd been welcomed back to S.H.I.E.L.D with little acknowledgement and it felt like the past three weeks flew by far too quickly – yet so much happened within such a short amount of time… Coulson was making us spend half the day in the gym because he thinks we got 'lazy' in our time off… which was pretty much true. Clint and I sparred and the familiar rush of energy that took over my body was gratifying in its own way when Clint was pinned between my sweaty body and the floor.

Fury was happy to tell us that the Council will no longer be of trouble after the mission that opened up many doors then first predicted – not only did we save dozens of babies from a monstrous fate, but we'd opened up a whole new advancement in the science department after shipping in all the vials from Edwardo's lab. The Council was being questioned about alliance with the former Council woman who had accompanied Edwardo to the gala, which meant no more harassment for us!

The fact that it all linked up to the Red Room was another bonus in the outcome of events.

Now, however, Clint and I were being separated.

Coulson was being shipped over to New Mexico and needed only one agent under his full commandment; and of course, that would be Clint.

Not because Coulson favoured Clint more than anyone else, but he needed someone with a watchful eye because something about this mission seemed off, according to our handler. Rainbow portals that appear out of nowhere never sounds like good news.

So I was soon condemned to be alone with the dog.

Great.

It wasn't so much that I was afraid of being alone… it was the nightmares that would come back in his absence.

I lean against the doorframe as I watch Clint pack his duffle bag, shoving in as much S.H.I.E.L.D uniform that could fit without taking up the space for his compacted bow and arrows. He had several of his guns in a small carry bag and underwear and toiletries in another, and he was cursing under his breath because he was _sure _he was going to forget something.

"When do you leave?"

He turned around and sat on his bum to face me, leaning back against his back for support.

"Just over an hour." He sighed, reaching out for me to grab his hand. I complied, and he pulled me down onto the floor with him, sitting me on his lap with my legs on either side of his hips.

"How long will you be gone for?" I whispered, playing with the strings on his hoodie.

"However long it takes to figure out what the hell is going on in the middle of nowhere."

"Do you think you'll be back before Christmas?" I tried to ask casually, without sounding like a little girl.

"Hopefully." He grinned, cupping my jaw in his large hand and letting his intense gaze burn into my eyes.

"You should finish packing." I said after a long moment, making a move to stand from where I sat, but he clutched my hips and held me in place.

"No." he whispered, leaning in close enough for me to smell his minty breath. "I have time. I have plenty of time."

His hands lingered dangerously close to the waistband of my pants and when his thumb hooked under my shirt and caressed my flesh, my breath caught in my throat and when I looked back into his eyes, they were smouldering.

"Clint…" I breathed when his hands continued to explore my flesh, setting a trail of fire wherever he touched.

"Shh…" he cooed, tugging the shirt higher, higher, until I had no choice but to lift my arms up and let him pull it over my head and reveal my pale body to the cool winter air, but under his heavy-hooded gaze, I felt hot.

He leant up and pressed a kiss to the hollow of my neck that quivered with my uneven breathing and I tilted my head until my hair was skimming my lower back. He was slow and torturous, kissing every inch of revealed skin with an agonizing pace that made me want to scream.

His hands were everywhere at once; wandering, exploring and discovering my body as if for the first time. He squeezed and caressed and trailed and lingered on my flesh, determined to find the spot that makes me squirm the most. I could feel his hardness pressing against my centre through his jeans but he seemed to be ignoring it, was too involved in the prospect of my body to notice anything that happened to his own.

Soon I grew tired of his teasing and I grasped his wrists in my hands with a growl, my eyes hungry as the hotness pooled in my stomach even more. He smirked with a suggestive raised eyebrow and I arched into him to give him some sort of _clue _that he was killing me with his slowness.

"I grow tired of your games sometimes." I whispered roughly, internally cursing myself at how my voice quavered.

"I know." He grinned, watching as I stood up from his lap and pulled him with me. He towered over me, wrapped his arms around me and trailed his fingers down my spine, lingering to my bra strap for an extra second before continuing. I growled again and slammed my lips onto his own, letting out my hunger and devouring thoughts as our tongues skimmed one another and fought for dominance in the alcove of our mouths.

My fingers flexed through his short hair as his weaved through my long hair and our bodies were pressed together so hard that we may as well have joined as one.

We toppled onto the bed in our desperation to shed our clothes and he laughed against my lips.

"I'll miss you, Tasha." He mumbled, and I shook my head and pulled away.

"Don't wanna talk about it." I hissed, basically ripping his shirt over his head to reveal his sculpted body that I fell in love with the first day I saw it three years ago.

Soon the rest of the clothes were tossed carelessly around the bedroom and Clint pulled us under the covers to stop the cold, harsh air from making us shake. His hair was ruffled and I'm sure mine was just as bad, but the feeling of our bodies meeting one another with absolutely no article of clothing the make a barrier created astonishing warmth.

He didn't control us as we moved together, didn't let his sniper patience interfere with our bodies. My nails raked down his back and left bloody trails as evidence and if I arched my body into him anymore I was sure my back would snap. He was so beautiful as he rested his forehead atop my own and his breath mingled with my own as he pushed my legs further apart with his hands to shift into a better angle that hit _just the right spot. _

A few curses left my tongue in all different languages as he thrust into me and an incoherent grunt left his own lips as beads of sweat started to form on his brow. We didn't hold anything back as we came together, our voices loud enough to disturb the neighbours. He called my name and I called his but they were both consumed by a kiss that enveloped my mouth as his shuddering body crushed my own in the most comfortable of ways.

We lay like that for what seemed like hours, and even then he still wasn't breathing properly. I gently ran my fingers over his back, feeling the wetness of sweat and blood mingle on my fingertips. Eventually he rolled off of me, and I curled naked into his side, wanting to fall asleep in his arms like usual…

"I need to go."

And then the fear started pooling in my belly and my eyes shot open and he saw the panic in my irises before I said a word.

"You can't leave me." I whispered.

"I'm sorry." He said as he caressed my face.

"Clint…" I closed my eyes, fighting back the urge to call Coulson and tell him we needed more time to level out.

"I'll call you as often as I can, Tasha. Maybe I'll even have access to skype some nights. You'll be fine, I promise."

I frowned but nodded, and suddenly my whole body went cold when he pulled away and climbed out of bed. I watched his get redressed and zipped up his bag, and I felt deflated because how long would he disappear for?

"Okay." I whispered instead of voicing my fears, and he buckled up the belt around his waist while giving me his stupid puppy dog eyes that made me want to almost cry.

There was a sudden honk of a car from below our window, and despite the constant traffic outside of our apartment, we knew it was Coulson.

"I'll talk to you soon, okay?" he whispered, throwing all of his bags over his shoulders and stepping towards the bed. I sat up and ran a hand through his hair, trying to control the wild spikes.

"Okay." I repeated, leaning up and pressing one last kiss upon his lips. He smiled and tucked a curl behind my ear, his eyes melting into my own before he pulled away and headed for the door.

"Oh, and Tasha," he said, turning around mid-step. I stopped breathing and watched as he had a mental war with himself right before my eyes.

"I… I really will miss you." He nodded, mostly to himself, and before I replied, he was out of the room and leaving me naked in the bed feeling oh so empty and alone.

But his unspoken words lingered in my mind hours after he was gone…

_I love you. _

_._

_I know there may be DOZENS of mistakes that I'll need to fix but its late at night and I really wanted to update before Monday which I succeeded in by an hour ;) _

_Clint's off to aim for Thor and Natasha's all by her lonesome :~( review and tell me what you think and if there are any mistakes that make the entire chapter an embarrassing chapter for me, please let me know!_

_I love you all mwa mwa! _


	20. Conversations

The computer screen clears up and he sees her face for the first time in a week. There's bags under her eyes and she's wearing one of his old, faded shirts even though it isn't warm enough for the weather over there. Her hair is under brushed and hangs in knotty curls over her shoulders, but she's still beautiful.

It's the first time he gains access to a vacant computer in this stupid facility (with the help of Phil, of course) and even though there are agents that wander behind him through the halls, the Skype call is private and they talk about her nightmares.

She tells him she's remembering when the guards used to come in and use her and her roommates for pleasure. They'd come in groups, fanning out and choosing their own little girl to rape, or sometimes they would choose just one for several men. It sickened him; because Natasha told him the first time they ever evaded her privacy in the night, when she was just seven or eight.

So she wasn't sleeping.

Or, she was, but only for a couple of hours at a time. Which was unhealthy.

She hated him for leaving her but she hated herself even more for relying on someone when she'd spent her whole life on her own.

He told her everything was alright and that he'd be back as soon as he could, and she told him that S.H.I.E.L.D would make sure to keep him there for longer, just in spite.

They missed each other, a lot.

.

_**Natasha's POV**_

Fury called me into his office just as I started my workout in the gym, and I rolled my eyes at his uncanny timing. Making my way down the halls in nothing but tight black gym shorts and a sports bra wasn't exactly ideal, but I marched on with my head held high and my fists, which were wrapped, fisted.

I knocked on the door and Fury told me to enter, his single eye glancing up at me, making no outward reaction to my attire.

"You look tired."

"Do I?" I sat on the chair in front of his desk without being instructed to do so.

He grunted and reached into his draw, pulling out a thin file and sliding it towards me. "Your mission."

I flicked through the file, reading the more important passages and analysing the familiar picture of a handsome billionaire with a grin that clearly said _'I'm better than you.' _

"You want me to babysit Tony Stark?" I asked, placing the file on my lap.

"Pretty much." Fury nodded, flicking forward an envelope I knew to be full of passports, ID's, certificates and all that other important stuff.

"Great." I mumbled. So in the absence of my partner, I will be stuck with an obnoxious billionaire?

"Is that a problem, Agent Romanoff?"

"Not at all. So what's my role?"

"Stark's new secretary. Miss Potts has been announced as CEO of Stark Industries and he's in search for someone to take her old place. They have plenty of candidates already listed for approval – so you need to make an impression. You'll assess his health and in a few months time, report whether or not he is suitable for the Avengers Initiative."

"Sounds simple enough. Are there any enemies on his hit list? Will he be under any threat?" I asked.

"Tony Stark has _many _enemies, Romanoff. But, as far as our resources know, he isn't under any immediate threat. But carry some tactical gear with you at all times. This man is unpredictable."

"Right." I nodded, "any other minor details I should be aware of?"

"Not that I know of. I have a manila folder being delivered to your door as we speak. The contents are the usual – friends, family, co-workers you should know of and some business details. Also, your resume isn't just the standard paperwork. Keep your Latin up to scratch, and we'll need you to head down to the Photography and Photoshop department. After that, you'll have a whole new wardrobe and accessory closet, and please don't be insulted by the skimpy dresses you must wear – Stark is very hard to impress, but no doubt you will be able to charm him just by smiling."

I was taken aback by Nick Fury's random compliment that I'm sure _no other agent _has ever received before, but kept my face placid.

"Is that all, sir?"

"Yes. You'll be leaving in three days time."

I nodded and stood up, turning to walk away, but stopped mid-step.

"Sir? Do you think my dog will be able to stay in the kennels again?"

"I already have that sorted." He grinned, and I smiled before leaving the room for good and heading back down to the gym where my clothes told me I belong.

.

_**Clint's POV **_

It was hot. It was sandy. I was hot in places I shouldn't be hot and there was sand in places where sand shouldn't be. I missed the fucking rainbow bridge leading to another dimension, and there was nothing exciting here other then the weird tribal design permanently etched onto the ground a couple of miles out.

I didn't even have the security clearance to see the hammer wedged into a rock that the entire security tent surrounded.

And I ask myself, why did Coulson need me here? I'd hardly seen the man since I arrived!

So yeah, the mission wasn't one of my favourites. I'd only gained access to a computer for a short amount of time and after the Skype call with Natasha, I felt even worse because she was so damn lonely and sleep deprived without me there.

Right now, I was sitting in my bed in the caravan that Coulson and I were sharing. He would leave early in the morning and return late at night, both times that I would be asleep, so I felt rather lonely in the cramped space.

I stood up and shed my shirt, using it to wipe the sweat from my body. The day had seemed to drag on forever, and I spent most of it doing perimeter patrols with the other guards in the sun of New Mexico. The moon had risen and the weather had cooled somewhat – but the caravan felt like a heater had been set to high all day.

So here I was, standing half naked in an extremely small caravan when Coulson decided to make an entrance. He didn't notice me until he closed and locked the door, running a hand through his hair and looking extremely exhausted before looking up and pausing mid-step.

"Your in early." I commented, continuing my pursuit to small fridge and opening it to radiate some cool air.

"Yeah. I feel awful, had to basically steal all of this high tech equipment from a young female scientist. She was so upset – but I had to keep a brave face."

"Will you give it back?"

"Depends on what the top of the department says. But I hope so." He shrugged, pulling his tie from his neck and removing his suit jacket. "And shut the fridge, your wasting energy."

I scoffed. "You can't talk, look at all the tech you've got running in that huge tent!"

"Yeah, but all that tech has something to do with a gateway to another world. Not cold air."

"I'd prefer cold air…" I grumbled, kicking off my boots and flopping onto the small bed bunker.

"I have a message from Natasha." Phil said after a while.

"Thought you couldn't get signal for phones over here?"

"I have my ways." He chuckled, throwing me his smart phone before pulling the curtain close to get changed.

I rolled onto my stomach and scanned through Phil's messages – all of which were boring – until I found Natasha's name.

_Been assigned to babysit Tony Stark! Don't know when I'll be home or when I can make contact with Clint. Please pass this message to him and the following address._

Underneath the text was the address of a hotel and room number.

"Tony Stark?" I frowned, glancing up at Phil as he pulled back the curtains, now wearing stripy matching pyjamas.

"What about him?" he asked.

"Nothing, its just… he's…"

"Rich? Handsome?"

"Both." I sighed in defeat. Why would Natasha stick around me after meeting a man like him? And why would a man like him stick around a woman like Pepper Potts after meeting a girl like Natasha?

"Don't be like that. Natasha doesn't care for money or good looks. The scars on your back stand out in defence."

My head snapped up and I rolled onto my back to hide the nail-trails that were etched into my flesh from former… _events _with Natasha.

"Those aren't-"

"Don't try to lie to me Clint. I was young once, you know." Phil waved me off before reaching out for his phone. I passed it to him and lay back down.

"Why do you think she left her hotel address?"

"Maybe she thinks you'll be able to pay her a visit."

"That would be cool." I sighed, resting my head in the palm of my hands.

"And I think I'll also be assigned to the Stark mission, too."

"What?" I snapped.

"I've had dealings with this man before. He's totally unpredictable; I have no doubt in my mind that he'll be attacked and I'll be sent to prevent it."

"That means Natasha's cover is likely to be blown and Stark will have trust issues with S.H.I.E.L.D." I stated.

"Once he knows why she was sent, he'll understand."

"Hey, why has she been sent, anyway?"

"That's classified." Phil smirked, pulling the blankets aside from his own bed bunk on the other side of the caravan and settling in.

"Do you think anything exciting will happen around here soon? Or am I going to be stuck here doing nothing until the whole thing is over and done with?"

"I have a gut feeling a certain God will come looking for his property."

I raised an eyebrow. "Your talking in riddles, Phil. There's no such thing as God." I stated, sticking to my belief that if God or Jesus or whoever else were out there actually cared about mankind, I wouldn't be here with a ledger soaked in red.

"Maybe not the kind you think about. But this mission isn't just to investigate the appearance of a rainbow portal – it'll prove to us that there are other species roaming the universe. And even better, if we can communicate with them, form an alliance."

"What on earth would we need an alliance with aliens for?"

"Gods." He corrected me. "And who knows, one day we may be under attack and need a team of remarkable people to save our necks. Sacrifices will have to be made by brave people and discoveries will be discovered through battle."

I let his heavy words sink in, thinking that if an attack against the world and mankind were to occur, I would love to have the pleasure in helping to fight for what was right. But what sort of super team would need an archer?

"Would you be brave enough to make a sacrifice?" I asked after a long moment of silence.

"I don't think I'd have the courage to risk my life for others – but I said the same thing when I signed up to be an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. You never know where fait will lead you until you are put into the position where your life doesn't seem as important as the rest of the world and the good within it."

"Words of wisdom." I grinned, rolling onto my side and kicking the blankets away from me. "Do you think something so epic such as an evasion from another planet will ever take place in our life time?" I asked as my final question.

"No way." Phil scoffed, shifting on his own bed. "That sort of stuff wont exist until a long, long time. We are simply the stepping stones to an alliance and discovery, but battle wont occur until we have the technological means to cause a disagreement with another form of life. Hopefully we live a long, easy life with no alien guns pointed to our heads." He chuckled.

"Or sceptres." I added.

Phil scoffed again. "I don't think anyone has been killed by a sceptre since medieval times."

"That's what people say about arrows, yet I kill people all the time." I pointed out.

"That's different. Sceptres aren't even-"

"Okay, okay, I get it. Sceptres are unlikely to kill ever again. You don't need to lecture me."

"You're a jackass."

"You love it." I grinned, closing my eyes. "Turn the lamp off, please."

.

_Okay, I'm guilty. I haven't fixed the mistakes in the last chapter and I haven't fixed the mistakes in this one either – I'm tired and desperate to get this chapter up ASAP. Love me :)_

_The two weeks of school holidays have started so hopefully I can squeeze some more chapters in between my busy schedule of work, work and more work. Yay. _

_Anyway, the story has reached 100 reviews! That's the most I have ever gotten on a story (I own another account) and it made me so happy that the support has reached the triple digits! I love you all so much and thank you for sticking with me for the journey of this story! I promise a third adaption will be in the making when this is done!_

_The conversation between Clint and Phil was drawn mostly away from Natasha so hopefully you could read the bond and similarities between the two men. I wanted them to joke about alien wars and sceptres because it would be ironic for it all to actually happen when they are in such doubt. _

_If you enjoyed this chapter and have anything so say, please leave a review :~) _

_P.S I don't actually know if New Mexico is really that hot – I just made an assumption because of the entire desert. Sorry if I am wrong. _


	21. Dates

_**Clint's POV**_

It doesn't take me long to come to the knowledge of a hostile in the perimeters and I'm ditching my post when the first droplets of rain splatter across my face. The dirt will soon be mud and there was no better time to prepare for an attack then before a storm.

The weaponry caravan is, thankfully, empty, and I hastily shrug on my tactical gear and listen over the comm as Coulson tries to gain control over the situation. Guards are being beaten to the floor in our own grounds and I wonder if I could stand a fight against the God who has come after his property.

"_I need eyes up high, with a gun." _Well, that was quicker then I expected, but I supposed I've already lost count of how many guards he's beaten up and further action is required.

I reach for the wall that holds the apple of an assassin's eye; guns. I reach for the sniper rifle at first, but make a split-second decision and choose the prototype bow and arrow that Coulson and I have been working on; it's never too soon to test some new weaponry, right?

The weapon is heavier then my normal bow and we haven't quite matched it with a quiver, so the arrows are fisted in my other hand instead. I don't need more then one, my aim is always perfect, but this is a God and he is powerful, so it's better to be safe than sorry. The bow is sleek and the coolness of the metal seeps through my fingerless gloves. It's a bit too chunky for my likening but with a few fixer-uppers here and there, it would be the perfect killing machine.

I kick open the door and notice instantly that the drizzle has now turned into a full blown rain storm, and the mud is thick and sloppy and I try not to slip but its hard but I don't mind because adrenaline is pumping through my veins because _I finally get to do something!_

There is already someone controlling the huge crane towering over the large dome tents and I throw the heavy bow and arrows into the rusty crane pit and haul myself over the railings. The crane begins to move and soon I am airborne, the pit wobbling and swaying side to side and I grip the edges to keep my balance.

I go up, up, up until the rain doesn't seem to hit my head as hard and I can see the whole perimeter of our base, and even better, the silhouette of a huge, deadly man causing chaos within the tents. He's much like Natasha in the way he attacks; hit and run, don't clear the bodies.

My comm link crackles to life and Coulson's voice is slightly delayed from my height. _"Barton, talk to me."_

I pick up and weapons and draw an arrow, the mechanical sound of the bow string pulling taut against its metal binds lie music to my ears. "You want me to slow him down, sir? Or are you sending more guys in for him to beat up?"

"_I'll let you know."_

I keep my arrow drawn and knocked into place and follow the Gods silhouette until he appears in an opening that leads to that 'magical' hammer I'm not allowed to look at. Not going to lie, it was spectacular and looked like it could cause a lot of damage in the right hands, even if it was wedged into a slab of rock.

The God was even bigger when seen clearly; his hair was blonde and came to his shoulders and his arms were far bigger than mine. Even from this height, I could see a familiar glint in his eye as he looked at his beloved hammer; the same glint I have when I look at my bow and the same look Natasha has when she holds her guns.

He is about to step forward and claim his prize, but an unsuspecting attacker is in the midst and knocks the God right off his feet. I see him grin and say something unintelligible to the guard towering over him, most likely a smart ass comment I was known to make, before he swings a nasty punch right to the guards jaw and sends him stumbling back.

They both engage in a hand-to-hand fight, and are evenly matched, although the God must be weary after fighting such weak guards before this one. They fall through the tent wall and land in the mud, thrashing and punching and kicking violently as the brown sludge dripped down their faces.

And then the God does this brilliant thing where he jumps high into the air, kicked both his legs forward and lands them squarely against the guards chest. They both fall to the ground, but the God is up before the guard, and makes one last kick to him before he can stand. He grins again, wiping the mud from his cheek and flicking his long hair out of his face, and even though it was rather feminine, he still made it look ferocious.

"You better call it, Coulson, 'cause I'm starting to root for this guy." I grin, watching as the God narrows his sight to his weapon and makes his way forward once more.

It's a tremendous moment; he looks at his hammer as if it were a friend, not a weapon. He smiles wide and simply stares down at the reason behind his troubles, marvelling in his victory of defeating an entire base on his own to get here, unaware of the arrow trained to his throat.

Coulson steps forward then, watching.

"Last chance, sir-"

"_Wait," _he breaths, _"I want to see this."_

Secretly, so did I.

He reaches forward then, no hesitation in his movements. Despite his bulky build and strength, he is almost graceful in the way he wraps his hand around the handle of his hammer. His grip is gentle at first, savouring the feeling of his success in the battlefield before he claims it as his own.

He tightens his hold, his knuckles bone white before he takes a deep breath and makes one almighty pull. Time seemed to stop as I waited for the outcome; but the hammer didn't budge.

The Gods expression changes from triumphant to confused in a split second, his blonde brows knitting together in confusion. He pulls again, harder this time, but the hammer stayed put, even after his expression turns to rage and he uses to hands to pull, the muscles in his arms bulging out of his shirt and the veins in his neck becoming noticeable under his skin.

I can see that he's groaning as he tries again and again to pry the weapon from the rock, but his voice doesn't reach my ears until his ear-splitting roars echoes over the land. He steps away, almost in shock, staring at the hammer as if it betrayed him to an unforgivable degree.

And then he drops to his knees in helplessness, head bowed and arms limp by his side. He's given up; the one thing he fought so hard for had refused to succumb to his touch. He forgets the enemy's prowling the area, watching, and admiring, and by the way his body sagged, it shows that he has surrendered himself.

"_Alright, shows over." _Coulson's voice cuts through the sentimental moment, and suddenly, everyone is now alert. _"Ground units, move in." _

The God is hauled away and I let my bow string go limp as I set my arrow aside. That's the last time I see the God, who I learn to be named Thor.

.

_**Natasha's POV**_

It's late in the night by the time I clock off from the busy duty as Tony Starks secretary and finally retire for the night. I bid goodnight to Tony and Pepper, who are sitting on the couch, arguing over security measures over his home. Ever since Ivan attacked, Pepper's been worrying over Tony's safety like an over-protective mother.

Stark glances up at me as I collect my coat and gives me this sarcastic _I'll-pretend-to-like-you-while-you-spy-on-me _look and tells me to enjoy myself for the rest of the night. Pepper calls over her shoulder, not bothering to turn and acknowledge me, which gives me the perfect opportunity to give Stark a _keep-your-mouth-shut-or-I'll-decapitate-you-with-a -spoon _look.

The taxi is already waiting by the driveway and I am sure to keep tabs on where the driver is taking me in case he is some sort of secret spy, but my paranoia is vanished when I arrive outside of my hotel. I keep up my act as Natalie Rushman, smiling when necessary and using my 'polite' voice when spoken to. As soon as I reach my door, my shoulders sag and I let out a sigh. Each day was mentally exhausting in this mission, acting as an up-to-date secretary, keeping tabs on an unpredictable billionaire and also watching his back for any enemies.

The hotel door swings open and I kick off my heels as soon as it closes behind me, cracking my sore toes and flexing the muscles. My skirt is in a pool of fabric by my feet once I reach the main area and my blouse is thrown over the chair in my haste to rid of the uncomfortable clothing I am forced to wear all day.

I feel kind of stupid for not realizing there was another person in the hotel suit until I walk into the bedroom and see Clint lying on my bed, reading the journal I've been keeping up-to-date for the Stark mission. He glances up at me when I pause mid-step in the doorway, eyes raking over my nearly naked body with a certain hunger in his gaze.

"Good to see you're getting some use out of the lingerie I bought you," he says casually, closing the journal and sitting up.

"That's classified information you've got there," I say, changing the subject.

"Indeed it is. I do hope you will be addressing Tony Stark by his proper name, not one of the rude ones you've got written in there." He smirks, patting the bed next to him.

I roll my eyes and make my way to where he sits. He watches every step I take, eyes focusing mostly on my bare legs than anything else. When I sit, he instantly reaches out for me, drawing my closer to his side and breathing in the scent of my hair.

"What are you doing here, Clint?" I breathe, melting against his body and letting my entire frame go limp.

"New Mexico mission is over for me now," he mumbled against my hair, drawing back to look at me with a smirk.

"But Coulson left the other day to head back there to sort some more stuff out?" I raised an eyebrow, remembering when Coulson told me he'd been reassigned two days after showing up at Starks front door.

"Yeah, well, my role was done, anyway. I got to _nearly _kill a God from another dimension, but, y'know, Coulson's a softy and told me to withdraw." He shrugged, and I listened as he told me his exciting story about being lifted into a crane and aiming his arrow at a Gods throat.

Eventually we lie down and pull the blankets over our bodies. Clint kicks off his boots and shrugs off his shirt and the warmth of his skin draws me even closer to him. It's been nearly a month since I've been able to touch this man and having him so close was enough to relieve all the stress upon my shoulders.

He traces odd shapes against my lower back and I curl into his side, kissing his shoulder and resting my lips against his skin. It's a peaceful moment, but is ruined when his hand lingers too close to the waistband of my panties and I get the impression he is interested in something far more intimate than cuddling.

I don't drift off to sleep until I'm covered in a thin layer of sweat, completely naked and laying mostly on top of Clint's body from when I collapsed. His heart thuds loud and clear and I can feel it echoing in my own chest. His breathing is uneven but he tries to regain it as he pushes my hair out of my eyes and wipes the sweat from my brow. The blankets have been pushed to our ankles and he uses his leg to bring it into his hands so he can drape it over my shoulders and keep the chilled air off my bare skin. With a final kiss pressed to my forehead, I close my eyes and let the feel of his hand resting firmly on my hip lull me to sleep, and if I remember correctly, he started humming an unknown tune as I lost consciousness.

.

He leaves the hotel room twenty minutes before I do and it's the last time I hear from him throughout the mission. It ends up fucked, of course, with 70% of Starks exhibition up in flames and exploding drones and evil Russians (more even than me, anyway) and I kick some serious ass and I _miss _feeling the adrenaline pumping through my veins and every punch and kick is fierce and vicious and even though Ivan wasn't in the room I was searching for, it still felt good to move my body in the way it was trained to move.

Being enclosed in pencil skirts and button-up blouses is so _not _my thing. That can be left for Pepper.

My job isn't finished, though. I still need to complete my report on Starks acceptance in the Avengers Initiative and I feel the need to set things straight between the billionaire and myself.

I'd just finished gathering the last of my hidden weapons from Starks Malibu home by the time he arrives. He's bruised and bleeding but he hardly notices me as he heads straight for his bottle of scotch. It's not until I zip by duffle bag shut that he turns to look at me, eyebrow quirked and lips set into a straight line.

"Agent Romanoff," he says gruffly, tilting his glass my way, "I didn't expect to see you here. Thought you were headed back to your super secret organization to spy on more innocent billionaires and worm your way into their trust just to crush it."

"It's part of the job," I shrug, and he scoffs, looking my cat-suit up and down in disapproval (or approval? Who knows?) "But I don't want it to end like this."

"So you're apologizing?"

"No." I shake my head. "I never apologize. I just want you to know it's nothing personal. And everything you told me will be kept a secret."

"Why do you care?" he cocked his head to the side, walking over to where I stand.

"I don't know. I just don't want there to be any debt between us. I'm still trying to owe one to my partner."

"Partner? Partner as in 'partner-in-crime' or 'partner-in-bed'?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I smirked, and he drained the remaining contents of the scotch from his glass, clamping his eyes shut momentarily at the burn.

"Well, I vote for the latter. I bet you have _mad _assassin sex, and use your skill in the field in the bed as well."

"We haven't reached that stage yet." I smirked, and his mouth dropped open in mock shock.

"I knew it! He is your partner-in-bed! I just manipulated a master assassin!" he fist pumped the air.

"Actually, you didn't manipulate me at all. I chose to confirm your suspicions; you had nothing to do with it."

He snapped his mouth shut with a pop and turned around to re-fill his glass. "Whatever. I'm going to bed."

"So are things…?"

"You mean do I forgive you? Sure."

I frowned. "That was quick."

"Yeah, well I figured that since you just told me about your personal sex life that the debt was pretty much clear. Now go wipe the one with your partner." He waved me off, and I brushed past him, towards the door.

"If only it was that easy."

.

The report takes less then half an hour to complete and I hand it over to Fury as soon as I land on base…

Well, the _new _base. The Helicarrier.

It's huge and it's impressive and there's so much military equipment but it gets even better as it lifts from the ocean and I'm rushed inside and there's hall after hall and room after room and there's just _so much _that it's overwhelming and I now know why Coulson was so excited about it.

Clint's already waiting for me inside but we must act professional and I greet him with a nod. He gives me a brief tour of the place, telling me the important places to remember, such as Fury and Coulson's office, the gym, the weaponry room, cafeteria, dormitories and so on. Oh, and the special screening room where meetings with the Council will be held. Ugh.

We have separate dorms but that doesn't mean we can't sneak and Arrow will be allowed on board in the sniffer dog department; he might even be trained to one day make his way to the field, which is great.

But the best thing is Clint's quin jet licence that was approved. This means we can fly on and off the Helicarrier when desired and park the jet at ground base. It was perfect.

So that's what we did. I was the co-pilot and we flew home in no time at all. The jet was faster then the standard plane and can perform sharp turns and can be upgraded to hold weapons, which Clint is more than excited about.

.

_**Clint's POV**_

It feels like the two missions hardly took place at all as soon as we entered our apartment and let our assassin masks slide off. I made crappy pasta and we ate it with flat cola, not really speaking but simply enjoying. Later that night, Natasha curls into my side and I glide my fingers through her hair, letting the ringlets encircle my digits.

"I think I'm going to get it cut," she whispers suddenly.

"How short?"

"Short short."

"Why?"

"It gets in the way sometimes. And I feel like doing something different."

I tried to imagine Natasha without her signature hair; the long red curls cropped and hardly hanging below her neck. It would be strange, and I knew her features would change, too. He face would look slimmer and her eyes sharper, but it wasn't bad at all.

"I think you should." I decided, looking down at her and smiling.

"Soon." She nods against my chest, tightening her hold on my waist. "But for now, lets sleep. I've missed this bed."

.

It came as a surprise when Coulson knocks on our door early the next morning. Natasha and I swear in two different languages and do rock-paper-scissors over who should answer the door, and of course, I do.

I hold the pillow over my crotch because Coulson would feel uncomfortable seeing me in nothing but some tight jocks and answer the door, hardly even looking at him before making me way back to bed. He goes straight to the kitchen and gets himself a bottle of water, following me into my room and finding me half asleep once again. At least Natasha had the decency to sit up and acknowledge him.

"You really need to re-stock your kitchen." Coulson says as he opens up the bottle of water.

"Maybe we could if we weren't sent on missions that last for months." Natasha grumbles, running a hand through her soon-to-be short hair.

"Preservable food does exist. Anyway, I need your advice, Natasha."

It those words, my eyes snap open and I'm sitting up beside Natasha, bewilderment in my eyes because why would Coulson ask Natasha for advice?"

"What's up?" she asks, just as curious as I was.

"You know the Christmas party coming up?"

"Yeah." We say together, and Natasha shoots me a glare because this was _her _conversation.

"Well, I have a friend that I want to invite but I don't know how-"

"Wait," I gawk, holding my hand out in front of me. "You mean, you have a date?!"

"She's not a-"

"And it's a _girl?"_

Coulson's eyes narrowed and I felt Natasha elbow me in the side a little harder then necessary.

"What is _that _supposed to mean?" he said between clenched teeth, cocking his head to the side in barely contained anger.

"Hey, I'm not the only one who thought you were gay, I remember Natasha asking waaaay back when I first bought her in."

"Wrong." Natasha butt in, shaking her head, "I also thought that _you _were gay, too, Clint."

"Well, I think I proved to you that I'm not-"

"Can we get back to the subject?" Phil finally snapped, stomping his foot slightly and Natasha and I shared a sideways glance, trying not to snicker like teenagers being shouted at by a teacher.

"Okay." Natasha smirked.

"Like I was saying, I want to invite her but I'm not sure _how _and I don't know how she'd feel being in a room full of assassins in a floating fortress with countless of weapons and-"

"Does she have the security clearance to be invited?" Natasha asked, smirk nowhere in sight and she switched from giggly to serious within seconds.

"I can sort that out." He grinned.

"Well, if she knows what she's in for, then I don't see why not."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. Don't be too desperate though – just suggest it and ask if she would be interested. That's the best way to go on such a sensitive topic." Natasha nodded with finality.

"Okay. Should I call her? Or ask her over coffee?"

"Coffee. Definitely coffee."

"Okay. Okay." He clasped his hands together; smiling as if he'd just solved a mystery. "Thanks, Natasha."

"Anytime."

"So is that all you came for?" I asked as he beamed to himself.

"Yeah."

"Well, can you go? I'm tired." I said, falling back onto the bed and rolling to my side. "Next time you want to come this early in the morning without warning, bring some Maccas."

.

_Please leave a review and tell me what you think, they make me happy and feel the need to write faster :)_


	22. This is it

_**Phil's POV**_

It was a pleasant night, as if the cool weather decided to take a rest on behalf of all the agents invited to the Christmas Party. Women were able to shed their coats and show off their brilliant gowns and no one would have thought that they were all master assassins by the way they dressed themselves up. The men all looked sharp in their pressed suits and ties, and as the night drew on, the crowed grew bigger and it almost felt like a… _normal _job.

The Helicarriers gym had been transformed into a Christmas themed wonderland, with white drapes spilled over the table and chairs, large metal snowflakes imbedded with sequins hanging from the roof, and Fury had even taken it into his own hands to buy some of Starks holographic projectors that gave the entire room the impression that it was snowing. There was a massive S.H.I.E.L.D emblem made entirely of ice on the main table that held the cocktail food and beverages.

What made the whole situation funnier was that it was Fury who did all the decorating himself, and when I asked why there were no traditional green and red decorations, he gave me the _are-you-serious _look and a nice long lecture about tacky, cheap colours that have the capacity to ruin the entire night, and I half expected him to put his hands on his hips in the heat of the moment.

So yeah, the night was a success, except two particular agents were yet to still arrive.

"Coulson,"

I turned around and saw Maria standing with her arms crossed over her chest, in the authority stance she had taken hold of over the years of being second in command. Even though she was wearing a lacy, cobalt dress that stopped at her knees and had her hair out of its traditional bun, she still held her no-nonsense attitude first hand no matter what she was wearing.

"Hill," I smiled, "You look nice."

"And you look the same," she grinned, and I shook my head. Maybe I should invest in a new style, the suits were getting kind of old…

"Have you heard?" I exclaimed, snagging two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one to Maria. "We may have accidentally come across the frozen body of Captain America!"

"Yes, of course I know. I also know that they've sent a squad to the icy wasteland to investigate."

"Are you serious? Why wasn't I sent with them?" I growled, my eyes wide in excitement for the discovery of my childhood hero.

"I'm not sure. But I also know that you were consumed in so much excitement that you forgot to ask your lady friend on a date," she grinned over the edge of her glass, taking a dainty sip from the sweet liquid.

"What? No! I didn't forget – "

"Oh, so you chickened out instead?" She raised her eyebrows, and I felt myself start to blush despite my struggle to fight the embarrassment down.

"No I just… this isn't exactly the right place to invite an outsider to. She would feel under constant threat with all the assassins and would probably change her number and address as soon as the night was over. I'll contact her another time and invite her out to dinner or something – like a normal man does."

"This job doesn't make you abnormal, Phil." She rolled her eyes. "It just makes you… a lot more respected."

The seriousness lasted under five seconds before we both snorted uncontrollably at Hill's futile attempt to assure me I was normal, and we were both bent over, laughing, when Natasha and Clint decided to make their late arrival. The whole atmosphere in the room seemed to shift as they stood in the doorway, and we instantly straightened up and wiped the tears from our eyes as we soaked in the sight of the Widow and her Hawk.

It really was no surprise why everyone had fallen into hushed whispers at their presence, because the two of them almost looked God-like as they gracefully entered the gym. Clint proved once more that he does indeed clean up nicely, his light grey suit making his sun-kissed skin look much more tanned than normal. His dirty blonde hair was spiked up and he even had some stubbly facial hair that gave him a rougher edge to his appearance. His stormy eyes stood out against the colour of his skin, scanning the surroundings with his sharp sniper senses that intimidated even the bravest and boldest of agents.

Natasha's unpredictable style always surprised her viewers, but tonight made everyone's jaw drop to the ground. It wasn't the green silk gown that matched the colour of her eyes or the greatly exposed flesh on her back that showed the entire curve of her spine, or the bold red lipstick or the golden eye shadow or the three inch heels (she was still shorter than Clint) that made her curvy body stand proud. It was her hair that no longer fell down her back in a waterfall of curls that had been her signature trait from day one; instead it now fell short around her strong jaw line, sharpening the features on her face and suiting her just as well as long hair does. The curls were short and flicked out from where they had been chopped, framing her face like a veil, one side pinned back by a emerald green clip that matched her dress and eyes.

And fury said that the colours red and green were tacky.

It all depends on the beholder, right?

The crowed finally snaps out of their daze and start murmuring to each other and I notice Bobbi standing off in the corner with one of the junior agents clinging to her waist as she fumes over Clint and his glamorous partner, and everyone can't help but glance over their shoulders as the partners make their way to the main table to nibble on the snacks that were much too small to be even classified as food.

When I look back down at Maria, she's got a thoughtful expression plastered on her face and there's a crease in her brow that only appears when she is feeling remorseful.

"What's wrong?" I ask, stepping closer to her so no wandering agents get the chance to listen into our conversation.

"Nothing it's just… there's more than just partnership and friendship happening between them, isn't there?"

"I don't even know," I sighed, lying straight through my teeth at one of my closest friends. She caught my bluff but didn't say anything otherwise, staring straight over my shoulder to where I knew Clint and Natasha were standing.

"They're like magnets," she mused, whispering quietly under her breath. "It's like they've always got a reaction to ones moves, even if it is the simplest thing like walking. Natasha is Clint's shadow and vice versa… and it's sad, because we've seen this happen before, Phil. You know what comes next."

She looked up at me then, her sky blue eyes searching my face for any sort of reaction. She must have seen the pain, or the regret, because she placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder that even surprised me because Hill was certainly no Natasha, but she wasn't exactly Bobbi, either.

I looked over at my two agents, nodding sadly to myself as I watched them laugh gently amongst themselves. "I know."

"When one dies, the other will certainly follow. If not physically, than mentally." We said at once, meeting eyes as our voices mingled as one.

Such is the life of a compromised partnership.

.

_**Natasha's POV**_

Fury made an appearance a couple of times during the night but would always disappear before we had the chance to address him. Clint cracked a few jokes during the night about how Coulson chickened out in asking his date to attend the party with him and I was constantly shooting Bobbi some threatening glares when she got too close with her clingy little junior agent who looks like he just got out of high school.

Aside from the fact that the party was in the gym, it was actually pretty good and I was even starting to enjoy myself with Clint by my side. Fury done a marvellous job and transforming the gym into a winter wonderland and if I didn't know any better, I would have thought we were in an actual ballroom.

"I like the snowflake holograms," I mused as I sipped on my champagne, looking up at the fake snow that floated to the ground by disappeared before it hit the floor.

"Yeah? I wouldn't be surprise if it's Stark Tech." Clint said as he looked up, too.

"It reminds me of home. Before the Red Room. We used to have this wonderful double story house and it was always snowing outside of my window and clinging to the glass."

"It's good to know that not all your memories are bad ones." He smiled, placing his hand on the small of my exposed back.

"I suppose. The nightmares seem to be subsiding, though, which is good. Everything fits together when it used to all be blank and I can finally find it in myself to truly wipe the red in my ledger because now I know what it is that I am really wiping." I sighed, and I felt myself drifting closer to Clint's side despite the fact that it was a risk in such a work-related area.

Clint was about to reply then, but stopped when I abruptly turned away and stifled a yawn.

"You tired?" He grinned, draining the remaining contents from his glass and placing it on a nearby table.

"Mhm," I mumbled beneath my hand, turning back to him when the yawn subsided and rolled my eyes as he wiped the uncontrollable tears from the corner of my eye.

"Want to get out of here?" He whispered close to my ear, and when I looked up into his eyes, they were almost smouldering.

I grinned and nodded, and we made our way over to Coulson and Maria, who have been talking to each other for most of the night in their little corner. We bid them goodbye and Clint gave Coulson the _I-told-you-so _look. Maria complimented my new hair and asked who cut it, and seemed in complete and utter shock when I told her that I made Clint do it.

There was something odd between them, though, like the two had some sort of secret that changed the atmosphere when Clint and I came in. I ignored it, though, and Clint and I walked out of the gym and caught a taxi home in silence because we I was so damn tired for some unknown reason and all I wanted to do was strip Clint of his suit and wrap myself into his big strong arms.

He had other ideas, however, and as soon as we entered our apartment, he was headed to the bathroom and had the bath running before I even slipped off my shoes.

He undressed me slowly, torturously, slipping my arms out of my dress sleeves and pulling the fabric all the way down my legs, placing a kiss on each thigh as he went. He stood up once again and plucked the clip from my hair, placing the dazzling piece of jewellery on the bathroom counter. Before he rid me of my undergarments, I shed his suit jacket and white button up before ridding of his belt and pants altogether. He almost tore away my panties and flung them across the room, and we sunk into the hot water in harmony, adjusting our bodies to accommodate the tight space so I was half on top of him, half wedged between the bath walls.

I could have fallen asleep in the warm water with my head on Clint's shoulder, but soon his hands went wandering and plans changed. Every time we slept with each other was like another exhilarating adventure; there was always more to explore or to discover and his whole body was like a maze, trying to find the perfect spot to make him quiver beneath me. He obviously felt the same about me, and I have never felt so pure and valuable underneath a mans touch in all my life. He was accepting, he was grateful, he saw the beauty in places most men wouldn't even acknowledge and I didn't regret it once when his name left my lips in a weak and breathless cry every time a new sensation rocketed through my body.

.

.

.

.

.

Another two years passed between the partners before Natasha got the call from Coulson during her mission in Russia, and she hadn't given a rats ass when she abandoned the mission, faced the Hulk by herself and worked her damned hardest to fight for her partners life.

Everyone observed the way the Widow worked within those short days of Loki's schemes, the way the frown on her brow never disappeared and whenever she had the chance, Barton's name would come into topic about how she could possibly save him. No body had ever seen this many cracks in the Widow's mask and bit by bit, it was slowly crumbling to the ground.

Her anchor, her save haven, everything that was good in her life may never even wake from Loki's spell, and what scared her the most was the fact that everything between them had been totally revealed to the enemy. Even though she used her manipulation skills to pry Loki's plan from his own mouth, his harsh words still stabbed her right through the heart like one of Clint's arrows.

"…_Slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear…"_

But she wouldn't give up, because she remembers, long ago, when she was just a girl, that she made a promise to this man to owe him a debt that was far more deeper than meets the eye. He saved her life, and now it was her time to do the same.

"…_And he'll wake just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams, I'll split his skull!"_

But Loki's words still haunted her.

When she eventually knocked him from the enemies harm, she was surprised by how easy it was. Clint breached the Helicarriers security, he blew up one of the engines and shut the other off, and with a limited amount of men, put the whole organization in a frenzy… yet the fight was weak, slow, and even though the blows were hard, she could easily avoid them, and she knew then that Clint was still in there, _her _Clint, and he was fighting against the spell, against himself, for her. Even if it meant dying.

When he woke, the relief was evident on Natasha's face, and the whole team noticed instantly what others only talked about, about how they moved together, two assassins moulded into one. She found her other half and because of her strong will and determination, the team accepted him without a second glance.

The debt was now clear, but her ledger still had a tint of red that needed to be cleared away.

So she fought like she never fought before, and even if the aliens were something she was never trained for, she found her way through them, found their weak spots and if it wasn't for her, the portal would still be open.

She remembers briefly mentioning Budapest whilst she fought alongside Clint, but that was whole other story.

And then the war was over, Clint was safe but scarred (mentally) and she knew she had a lot of work to take care of because now their roles have been switched and now it was her patching Clint up from all his nightmares.

And they had their team, and despite their differences and inability to work together, they were the reason the earth stood tall today, and the two master assassins have never felt more apart of a group than now.

And then there was Coulson.

Dead.

And everybody was _shattered. _

The team watched the footage, except for Thor, who held his head in his hands and simply listened to the audio because he witnessed the whole thing first hand.

Everyone marvelled at Phil's bravery; standing up to a God when all the odds were stacked against him. Everyone flinched and sucked in a breath when the sound of Loki's blade sliced through his flesh, and Natasha's hands suddenly felt like they were on fire because she held that sceptre and she saw the blood that dripped down the golden staff. Coulson's blood.

But a small smile spread over each of their lips at how, even in the midst of death, he blew Loki right off his feet.

And they were all proud because they knew exactly whom they avenged.

.

_I don't know if this is the end – I am starting to have my doubts now about this story and kind of just wanted to wrap it up. There will probably be one more chapter after this, and I don't think I'll be writing a third phase in the series despite what I said a while back._

_I just would once again like to thank everyone who took the time to read, review, favourite and follow this journey with me. It means the absolute world. _

_If you want to see another chapter, just let me know in a review and I'll write faster than I did for this one (writers block)._

_Sorry if this was so abrupt… but I think we all saw this coming to an end. _


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